Serpens Erus Temptatio
by Saerry Snape
Summary: Sequel to the second ending in VVBane. Thirteen years after the battle at Hogwarts, Harry Potter returns to the castle to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. There his grief over Ginny's death slowly begins to heal with the help of a journeywoman. But
1. Down to This

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

******Chapter 1 – Down to This**

It was a stormy night at Hogwarts. The enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall rolled with dark clouds and lighting as the first years were lead in for the Sorting Ceremony. Most of the Sorting Hat's song was drowned out by loud peals of thunder and then the first year's were called up by Edward Windmyer, who had replaced McGonagall as Transfiguration professor after she had become Headmistress in Dumbledore's stead.

"Adcock, Rosalyn!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Allen, Gabriel!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Cadden, Melanie!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

As Professor Windmyer continued to read out names, McGonagall leaned over to the man sitting to her right and whispered, "Which one is our young Snape again?"

"The dark-haired one," came the gruff reply as the witch looked out at the sea of heads, most of them dark-haired.

McGonagall gave the young man a slight glower and said, "Mister Potter, you continue to be the most infuriating child I have ever met."

Harry smiled slightly at her and said, "Professor, I haven't been a child since I was eleven and started fighting Voldemort."

"I know. Now, which one is Severus'?"

"The dark-haired one," repeated Harry, smirking.

"Harry…"

"I'm sorry, professor. I promised Sev when I got this job that I'd do his job for him."

"And what job would that be?"

Harry grinned and replied, "Annoying you, of course."

"Of course," said McGonagall with a roll of her eyes. "I should have known. Now, will you answer my question?"

"The lad with the gray tabby on his head." Harry tilted his head towards the eleven-year-old, who indeed had a small, gray tabby-cat perched upon his head. McGonagall frowned at the creature then looked at the wizard beside her.

"You're doing, I suppose?"

"Actually," said Harry, "it was Hagrid. He was the one who sent me Dusa."

"Where is that cat of yours, by the way?"

"In my rooms." Harry frowned then and added, "At least, I hope she is."

McGonagall arched an eyebrow at him then turned back to the Sorting as a name they both recognized was called out.

"Snape, Tristen!"

The dark-haired boy shuffled forward, the tiny tabby perched in his nest of wavy hair. His dark eyes wandered over the Head Table before they landed upon the only face he knew there.

That of his godfather, one Harry James Potter.

Harry smiled at the eleven-year-old, who grinned back before pulling the tabby off his head and hopping up onto the stool. The cat meowed at being removed from her perch and pawed at her master's hands as the Sorting Hat was dropped down atop his head.

"What House?" asked McGonagall quietly to Harry.

"One never knows," replied Harry cryptically, his serpentine eyes swirling as he watched the back of the slight boy.

Abruptly the Sorting Hat straightened and yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Tristen Snape ripped the Sorting Hat from his head and leapt off the stool, the tabby cat leaping back up to nestle in his hair. He grinned widely at his godfather before he hurried over to join his House.

McGonagall smiled as she leaned over towards Harry and said, "Looks like you have a new student. Aye, Head of Slytherin?"

The corner of Harry's mouth twitched up in a smirk as he replied, "Looks like I do."

* * *

After the Sorting, Harry wandered outside onto the grounds. A cold, brisk wind whipped his robes out behind him as he walked across the swaying grass. His dark hair, which he had allowed to grow out to his shoulders, covered his eyes at some points in time and flew straight back behind him at others.

He weaved his way across the grounds towards the Forbidden Forest, where several pairs of bright white eyes watched him. Harry gently brushed his fingertips over the dark scars on his wrist as he smiled at the creatures standing before him.

"I never thanked any of you for your help," he whispered as one of the Thestral's stepped forward. "None of us did."

The creature snorted, as though agreeing with him, and stretched out its neck to nuzzle at his hand. Harry stroked the velvety nose and said, "Thank you. For everything. The battle, your protection…I'm glad you believed I was worth it."

_You are_, whispered a voice in his head. _Brother…_

Harry smiled and patted the slender neck before he turned and walked towards a small hill. The Thestral followed him, moving slowly along beside him. After a moment, Harry reached out and laid a hand on the broad back of the creature.

He stopped at the top of the hill, staring down at three gray stones that had been placed there thirteen years before. Kneeling down beside them, he plucked up three blades of grass and held them in his hand, palm open to the now clear sky above. His eyes closed partially and the blades of grass shivered before they lengthened, growing leaves and scarlet petals. When the emerald eyes opened, three perfect roses lay across his palm.

The Thestral snuffled and leaned its head against his shoulder as Harry placed a rose upon each of the graves.

_Neville Longbottom_

_"A brave friend lost too soon but never to be forgotten."_

_Ronald Weasley_

_"A good friend lost to Darkness. May he find his way back someday."_

_Virginia Weasley_

_"Love lost to Darkness. Hope turned to sorrow. Tears were shed on her passing and shall be shed on the 'morrow. Her soul lingers on, waiting for a certain someone to join her. Until then, she waits…in sadness and in sorrow."_

Harry laid a hand on the third tombstone and slowly leaned forward to place a kiss on the cold marble. When he pulled back, there were tears on his cheeks and on the stone.

"I never told you how much I loved you," he whispered to the stone. "I thought if I did I'd lose you. I lost everything I ever loved. My mum and dad to Voldemort, Sirius to Azkaban, and you to that bastard Aubrey." He tucked his chin to his chest and continued to himself, "Did you ever know I loved you?"

"Uncle Harry?"

The dark head jerked up and Harry stared at the form of his godson, who was standing nearby. Dark eyes watched him and frowned as they saw the tears streaking his godfather's cheeks.

"Why are you crying?"

"Old memories," replied Harry, rising heavily to his feet. He patted the Thestral's shoulder then turned and walked over to his godson. Placed a hand on the thin shoulder, he turned the boy towards the castle. "Why aren't you in your common room?"

"I wanted to talk to you. Besides, I'm an in-insoomiach like Father."

"You mean an insomniac."

"Yeah. Who were you talking to?" This was asked as the two of them entered the castle.

"An old friend," replied Harry heavily. "It's nothing for you to worry about, Tris."

"Okay. Good night, Uncle Harry."

"Night, kiddo."

As Harry turned to head towards his rooms, Tristen spoke up.

"Uncle Harry?"

"Hmmm?" Harry turned to arch an eyebrow at his godson, who smiled slightly at him.

"Whoever you were talking to, I bet they knew you loved them."

Harry's chest tightened and he coughed before croaking, "Thank you, Tris."

"You're welcome, Uncle Harry. Night."

"Night," mumbled Harry, heading towards his rooms. As he did, he felt a hand brush his cheek and the feel of lips brushing his.

Or perhaps he just imagined it.

Either way, as he continued towards his rooms to get ready for his first class as the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and Head of Slytherin House, he felt a weight that had been on his chest for thirteen years lift.

Out on the grounds, the rose lying on Ginny's grave slowly set down roots and stood up, petals shining scarlet in the light from the stars above.

_A/N: Yeah, I know that I'm repeating a bit from the alternate last chapter of VVBane. Go with me here._


	2. Make This Life

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 2 – Make This Life**

_Rap-a-tap. Tap._

"Uhn." The dark head lifted from where it was buried face down in a pillow and glowered at the far wall. "Don't tell me…"

_Rap-a-tap-a-tap. Tap! Tap!_

"Bloody bollocks," grumbled the man, sitting up. He swung his legs down to the floor, wincing slightly as his bare feet touched cold stone. Cursing softly, he groped for the pair of slippers that had been there before he'd fallen asleep but were now missing in action. Probably the damned cat.

Still cursing, he rose and stormed from the bedroom, trailing the topmost sheet behind him as he tucked it about his bare torso. Walking to the heavy oak door, he unlocked it and threw it open, scowling out from under dark bangs at whoever it was that had disturbed his sleep.

McGonagall blinked slightly at the disheveled young man standing in front of her then recovered her composure and said, "Good morning, Harry."

"What's good about it?" growled the young man.

"It's your first day as a professor. Be happy."

Harry snorted and let go of the sheet clutched about his torso to flick his fingers absently in the air. "I am not in a particularly happy mood, professor," growled he. "_Particularly_ because I was awoke by a certain _someone_ banging on my door." He glowered meaningfully at her here, reminding the older witch far too much of Severus on his first day as a professor.

The sheet draped haphazardly over the young wizard's broad shoulders abruptly slipped, revealing a dark, ugly scar that ripped across his stomach. McGonagall found her eyes drawn to the horrid wound, which had been made by Aubrey during the last battle in the war against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was the wound that had nearly killed the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry seemed to notice her scrutiny and pulled the sheet about him again, glowering darkly at her. He glanced at the wizarding version of a Muggle grandfather clock that resided in his rooms then fixed a glare on his old Head of House.

"It's…four…in…the…bloody…morning."

"Ah, monosyllabic and glaring evilly," said McGonagall with a smile. "Have you been taking lessons from Severus?"

Harry growled in the back of his throat and started to close the door. McGonagall placed a hand on it and he stopped, frowning at her. Her expression was now once of concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked, the same sort of motherly tone in her voice that was always in Molly Weasley's.

Harry nodded and replied, "Why shouldn't I be?"

"You know why."

"I'm perfectly fine, professor. Perturbed at the moment, but fine. Now…may I _please_ get some more sleep before I must bury myself in the horror of an actual job?"

McGonagall smiled and nodded, dropping her hand from the door.

"Thank you," said Harry, closing the door a little harder that was needed. McGonagall sighed as she heard the lock click and turned to walk back towards her office. On the walk there, she wondered if she had done wisely to ask Harry to take the job of both Defense Against the Dark Arts professor _and _Head of Slytherin House. Both places of authority had seemed to be cursed since Severus had been reverted to his fifteen-year-old self. Much like before with the DADA position, no Head of Slytherin House ever stayed Head for more than a year. Only one had made it more than one year and that had been Professor Vector. _He_ had only made it by sheer stubbornness.

But it wasn't just the jobs she'd given him that bothered the older witch. She was not worried that he would shirk his duties or wouldn't teach the students what they needed to know. Having known the young man since he was eleven, she knew that Harry had never done less than what he needed to. But she wasn't worried about him doing his job. She was worried that his memories of certain…events…in and about the castle would keep him from doing his job.

But perhaps she was just worrying herself.

* * *

"First class: fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors…" Harry stared at the sheet of paper lying on his desk for a moment before he tilted his head backwards and looked up at the ceiling. "Someone up there hates me, don't they?"

"Uncle?"

"Tris?" Harry frowned at his godson as the eleven-year-old eased into the classroom. "Shouldn't you be at breakfast?"

"Shouldn't you?" shot the young wizard back. Harry chuckled and propped his elbows on the edge of his desk.

"Dobby was kind enough to bring me something this morning. I trust you _did_ at least get some food from the Great Hall?"

"Er…"

Harry sighed and shook his head, saying, "Tristen, what am I going to do with you? Dobby!"

The house-elf appeared with a loud _crack!_, his tea cozy fixed lopsidedly upon his head. He bounced slightly and chirped, "Harry Potter wants something?"

"Could you bring a bit of breakfast for my young friend here?" asked Harry, smiling cordially at the house-elf. "And a bit of pumpkin juice."

"Two goblets?" questioned the elf, causing Harry to ponder for a moment. He then nodded and Dobby snapped to attention. "Dobby will get breakfast for the young sir, Harry Potter, sir!" The elf disappeared with another loud _crack!_ and Tristen frowned at his godfather.

"Mum wouldn't be happy with you for that."

Harry sighed at that comment.

"Hermione knows very well how Dobby is. She'll forgive me. Now where did that bloody ledger go?" Harry pawed at the papers covering his desk for a moment before he found what he was looking for. A second later, a tray of food appeared on the edge of his desk, a pitcher of pumpkin juice and two pewter goblets popping into existence beside it.

Tristen blinked and said, "He's fast."

"That he is," agreed Harry, flipping the ledger open as he reached out to pour himself a glass of pumpkin juice. "C'mon, now, and eat a bit of this wonderful breakfast before I am forced to eat it myself."

Tristen grinned and crossed the room, dragging a chair up close to his godfather's desk.

* * *

"Where's that cat of yours, by the way?"

"In my room," replied Tristen, nibbling on a piece of toast. "At least I think she is."

Harry chuckled and said, "I have the same doubts about Medusa. Though I fear she _is_ in my rooms and has stolen my slippers for her own."

Tristen laughed then looked at his watch and cursed, causing Harry to give him a stern look.

"What would your mother do if she heard you talking that way?"

"You and Da do," said Tristen as he rose from his seat, pushing it back into the place it was before.

"That's different. Dobby, I believe we're done." The tray disappeared and Harry turned to Tristen, saying, "Alright then. Off to your first class then."

Tristen nodded and said, "See you Thursday, Uncle."

Harry smiled and nodded in response, watching the boy as he left. He then frowned at his cluttered desk and swept his hand over it. Instantly everything was in order and he smirked in success..

A second later the room was full of fifth year Gryffindors and Slytherin's and the teaching day had begun. The students all jammed in, most of them talking excitedly about having _the_ Harry Potter teaching them. Harry smiled slightly and waited until they had all sat down before he stood up.

"Good morning, class. I'm certain introductions aren't needed for me, but we're going to do them anyway. _My name_ is Harry Potter, which is Professor Potter to all of you. Now…please answer 'yes' when I call out your name."

He trailed down the list of names, getting 'here' and 'aye' but no 'yes'. Smirking mentally, he wondered if any of them were going to get it.

The last person on the list did.

"Young, William."

"Yes," said the teenager, his dark eyes twinkling. Harry glanced at the boy's crest and smirked.

Of course it would be a Slytherin that got it.

"Five points to Slytherin, Mister Young."

"_What!_" exclaimed a Gryffindor on the other side of the room. "Why does _he_ get points?"

"Because _he_," purred Harry, fixing his eyes on the young wizard, "answered in the form that I wished you all too."

The Gryffindor scowled at him and muttered, "Git."

"What was that, Mister…" Harry glanced down at the ledger then back up at the boy. "McKinnon, is it?"

"Yes, sir."

"Now, Mister McKinnon, is it polite to call your professor's 'gits'?"

McKinnon's cheeks flushed pink and Harry chuckled. He said, "I am tempted to take points but since I myself called a certain professor that same thing one too many times behind his back, I won't." Just as the Gryffindor started to sigh in relief, he leaned forward on his desk and locked eyes with him. "_But_ if I ever hear it or any other slander referred to me – or any other professor – in my presence again, five points shall be taken. From _whatever_ House it may be." He glanced meaningfully at the Slytherin's here.

"Now, your last professor seemed to have been a bit…eccentric."

"Eccentric, my arse," muttered McKinnon, causing Harry to eye the fifteen-year-old.

"Mister McKinnon, even _ex-_professors are included in my statement."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good. Now…I see your last professor – Professor…Tribear? Tribeau? Oh, forget it… – your last professor covered a small amount of things with you. Grindylows, Hinkypunk's, Kappa's…even Werewolves. But not curses, I see."

The entire Slytherin side of the room perked up at that. Harry smiled at them then continued on flipping through the notes McGonagall had given him.

"Nothing much here. So, the first thing we shall be covering this year will be…" He paused for dramatic effect and was pleased to see several students leaning towards him. Smirking mentally, he waited a few more seconds before finishing his sentence.

"Dementors."

One of the girl's in the room gasped and a Gryffindor near the front asked in a hushed tone, "Sir, are we ready for something like that?"

Harry smiled and replied, "I faced off Dementors in my third year. Its good to know the charm required to fend them off."

"Does anyone know anything about Dementors?"

Several hands raised and Harry glanced at the ledger before he called on anyone.

"Miss…Marley?"

A girl on the Slytherin side with strawberry blonde hair smirked at those around her then said, "Dementors used to be the wardens of Azkaban before Voldemort called them to join his army. Most of them were destroyed in the last battle of the war."

"Thank you, Miss Marley," said Harry, shoving his memories of that last battle into a room in the back of his mind and slamming the door shut as they threatened to roll forward like a tidal wave and crush him. "Five points to Slytherin. Now, can anyone tell me something else about Dementors?"

More hands raised and Harry picked out a Gryffindor this time.

"Mister Abrams?"

The sandy-haired young wizard grinned and spoke, his Irish accent reminding Harry of Seamus.

"Dementors are famous for delivering the Dementor's Kiss to victims."

"And what does the Kiss do?" asked Harry.

"They suck out the victim's soul, sir."

"Very good. Five points to Gryffindor. Can anyone tell me the charm to dispel a Dementor?"

Only one hand raised this time and it was that of a Gryffindor sitting at the back of the room. Harry nodded at them, trying to remember their name.

"_Expecto Patronum_ is the incantation used to fend off a Dementor. It is called the Patronus Charm and requires a happy memory for it to work. Not many can make it work to its full potential, which _can_ completely destroy a Dementor."

"Thank you, Mister…Nocens." Harry arched an eyebrow at the boy's full name. _Atra Nocens_, he thought to himself. _Dark Evil. How…pleasant._ "Five points to Gryffindor."

"Now, all of you get out your wands and have a try at the Patronus Charm. Remember to focus on a happy memory. Not all memories work and even if you do succeed, without a Dementor your Patronus will not be very clear." Harry swept his gaze over the class as he added, "I doubt many of you will be able to conjure more than mist. Let's see if a few of you can prove me wrong."

Harry drew his own wand and said, "Before you begin, I'll give you a sample of what a real Patronus looks like. Pay attention now." He sighed and closed his eyes, focusing on one of the few happy memories he still had. It was the first day of his seventh year, when Ginny had thrown herself onto him as they stood on the Hogsmeade Platform. That was one of the few memories he still had of Ginny that hadn't been tainted by gore and blood.

Opening his eyes, he pointed his wand at the wall and snapped, "_Expecto Patronum!_"

The silver stag erupted from his wand, cantering about the room as it saw no Dementors there to fight off. Its coat shined silver as it trotted about him in a circle before it went sniffing at the Slytherin side of the room. The girl in the front row squealed and jerked back but the boy sitting beside her reached out and passed his hand through the silvery nose.

"Wicked."

Harry smiled and looked sideways at the stag as it dissipated into nothingness. He then turned to the class and said, "Now, try it on your own. Remember, happy memory first, incantation second."

He then moved back behind his desk and sat down to watch his class.


	3. What I've Done

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 3 – What I've Done**

Three semi-solid Patronus'. Two students sent to the Hospital Wing. And a headache to round out the day.

Bloody peachy.

Harry grumbled something under his breath as he rummaged through his cabinets, not noticing when the door to his office creaked open. He heard the clicking of boot heels and turned, palm out towards the intruder. Fire leapt to his fingertips at his call and he mentally formed it into a ball that hovered above his palm.

Then he saw who it was and narrowed his eyes at them, dispelling the fire and turning back to his search.

"You shouldn't sneak up on people."

"And you shouldn't go around attempting to throw fireballs at people," quipped Severus in response. "How did the first day go?"

"Wonderfully. Three fifth years managed fair Patronus' and two seventh years managed to get themselves into the Hospital Wing for the day. And I have a headache."

"I have a potion for that."

"I know you do," said Harry, shoving a bottle out of his way. "But I'm not looking for a potion."

Severus arched an eyebrow and asked, "Well, what _are_ you looking for?"

"_This_," said Harry, grabbing a dusty bottle at the back of the cabinet and pulling it out. He brushed dust off of it and grinned at the other wizard. "Firewhiskey."

"Harry, this is no time to be getting drunk.

"How about a game of chess?"

Severus looked from the bottle of Firewhiskey to the dark-haired wizard and back again. He then sighed and said, "Why not?"

"Very good. C'mon, I've got a chessboard in my room."

"What about the shot glasses?"

"Got those too."

"Sometimes I think you are obsessed with that game," remarked Severus as the two of them left the office and headed towards Harry's rooms. "Or perhaps just Firewhiskey."

"And vodka and brandy and rum."

"Rum?" asked Severus

"Rum," agreed Harry, tapping his fingers out in a specific rhythm on his door. He then pushed it open and went inside, motioning Severus in after him. As he shut the door behind them, he asked, "So, what brings you back here? I thought you weren't going to teach Potions again."

"I'm not. I came to ask you how Tris was doing."

"Fine, fine. Did he send you and Mione an owl about what House he got in?"

"No," growled Severus. "Little imp. What was it?"

"Slytherin."

"Of course…" He grinned wryly at the other wizard – who was pulling shot glasses out of a drawer and setting them up on an empty chessboard – and said, "I hear tell that you're the new Head of Slytherin."

"Who told you that?"

"Minerva."

"Is it that surprising?"

"The Golden Boy of Gryffindor Head of Slytherin House? Harry, where have you been?"

"Sev, I haven't been the Golden Boy of Gryffindor since everyone found out I was the Heir of Slytherin," admonished Harry.

"Not true," said Severus, waggling a finger. "But anyway…where's that bottle?"

"Right here."

"Good. Pour it out."

"We'll just hope McGonagall nor anyone else comes calling," said Harry as he poured the Firewhiskey into the shot glasses.

"By the time anyone comes by, we'll be out cold."

"With the chess game finished by then."

"Don't be so sure about that one. I suppose I'm these blue-tinted one's?"

"They're on your side aren't they?" asked Harry.

"Yes," replied Severus.

"So there."

"Braggart."

"Arse. You go first."

"Hmphf," said Severus and pushed one of the shot glasses forward.

* * *

Three hours, six games, seven bottles of Firewhiskey, and two bottles of rum later.

"Gah," said Severus, slumping on the table and overturning one of the shot glasses. "Whoops…"

"Now y've done i'," mumbled Harry. "'At's goo' rum…"

"Gone now," chirped Severus. "'Nother game?"

"Nah. Too drun'."

"Same 'ere."

Both men frowned at each other for a moment before they both turned nearly identical glares on the door. Someone was knocking and doing so rather incessantly.

"'Oo tha'?" wondered Severus aloud as Harry staggered to his feet. "Where y' goin'?"

"Ter answer tha door," mumbled Harry, staggering across the room. He went too far and slammed into the door, staggering backwards. Grunting, he lunged feebly at the doorknob and managed to keep a hold on it long enough to mutter the charm that unlocked the door. Then he just staggered backwards, falling into an easy chair. Severus started to laugh at him then clutched at his head, moaning.

"Oh, Merlin, I 'ate Firewhiskey…"

"_Firewhiskey?_" exclaimed McGonagall as she entered, looking from one wizard to the other. She then saw the chessboard and the shot glasses and sighed. "That game again? You two should know better."

"I though' we'd be n'conscious by now," mumbled Harry.

"With how many times you two have played this game, I'm not surprised you haven't become impervious to the effects of all types of alcohol."

"T'anks," slurred Severus, glaring mildly at her.

"Shut up, Severus. Harry, where do you keep your Sobriety Potions?"

Harry lifted an arm feebly and pointed towards a cupboard. McGonagall marched over to it and threw both doors open, grabbing one of the flasks labeled in Harry's hasty scrawl. She poured some of it into two shot glasses then moved to hand one to each young man. Harry scowled at his and she gave him a hard look.

"Drink it or I'll force it down your throat."

Harry sneered at her – or he tried to – and downed the potion, gagging as it traveled down his throat. "Gods!" he croaked. "That stuff never gets better." The moment the potion touched his throat, his mind had begun to clear. Now he was completely free of his drunken stupor and slightly perturbed. Judging from the look on Severus' face, he felt the same way.

"Now _that_ was the ruination of a perfectly good sloshing," complained Severus. "Minerva, what could be so urgent that you need to interrupt?"

"Your wife calling me on the Floo," replied McGonagall darkly, which caused Severus to pale. She smirked and added, "Yes, I thought you'd find that fact interesting. She tried to reach Harry but it _seems_ that he has blocked his." She glared at the other wizard here.

Harry sneered at her and said, "I cut off my Floo for a very good reason."

"And why is that?"

"Reporter's continually trying to talk to me. Limey buggers."

"Well," said McGonagall," now that we have that covered…Severus, I believe you should be returning home and, Harry…"

"Aye, Captain Ma'am Sir?"

The older witch frowned at him and growled, "Get some sleep!" With that she turned and stormed out, leaving the two men to snicker.

"Still the same old Minerva," mused Severus. He then stretched and added, "I suppose I should get back home. No doubt Mione's going to rake me over from arse to ears for this."

"Especially when she finds out you've been drinking rum," said Harry with a wry grin.

"Not to mention Firewhiskey."

"That too. I wish you luck."

Severus smiled and said, "Thanks. I'm definitely going to need it. She's as moody as…well, Moody, as of late."

"That's what you get living with a pregnant woman. And Moody wasn't moody, he was paranoid."

"Thank you, Sir Obvious."

"Ever so welcome, Lord Dumbass."

Severus snorted and started for the still open door. "Goodnight, Harry."

"Night, Sev. I'll keep an eye on Tris for you and Herms."

"I hope you do," said Severus with a chuckle, one hand on the doorknob. "Why else do you think we made you his godfather?"

"Highest choice on a very short list?"

"Ha ha. And don't drink anymore of that foul stuff tonight."

Harry nearly choked on his laughter.

"You're calling rum foul and you drink Firewhiskey? C'mon, Sev, Firewhiskey's far worse than rum can ever be."

"Just don't drink anymore of it, alright? If Minerva has to get you up in the morning, she will _not_ be happy."

"Speaking from experience?" asked Harry with a wry smile.

Severus rolled his eyes and said, "Oh, shut up and go to sleep, man!"

Harry laughed at that and said, "See you, Sev."

"Same to you, Harry," said Severus, closing the door. Harry stood there until the sound of the other man's footsteps vanished. Then he muttered the charms that locked his door and turned to walk into his bedroom.

There he flopped down face-first onto his four-poster bed, not bothering to change out of his alcohol scented clothes or pull the blankets on top of him. He just lay there, cheek pressed against his pillow. His eyes stared across the room to a picture on the wall. From it Ginny, Severus, Hermione, and he himself all waved and grinned. It had been taken by Colin Creevey just before the battle that had taken Ginny's life…and his soul.

Heaving a sigh, Harry rolled over onto his back, absently jerking one of the blankets over himself. He waved a hand at the lights, which went out, leaving him in darkness.

Just the way he liked it.

"Mrow?"

"Hey, Dusa," mumbled Harry as the cat leaped up on his chest, purring loudly. She tickled his nose with her long tail before he playfully wrestled her onto her back, leaving her to gnaw at his fingers. Her back legs pawed at his wrists as her huge almond eyes blinked at him in the dark. Like his own, they practically glowed with a light of their own.

"How about some sleep, girl? Eh? You tired?"

"Mrow," came the reply and the cat yawned. Harry just chuckled and tickled the soft fur on her belly.

"Me too." He yawned and stretched out, kicking off his boots. Cuddling the purring cat close, he buried his nose in her soft fur and heaved a sigh as he closed his eyes.

He just wished it was Ginny beside him along with Medusa.


	4. Miss the Life

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 4 – Miss the Life**

"Good morning, Professor…ah, Potter, is it?"

"There is never anything good about mornings," grumbled Harry, not looking up at the person addressing him. He could tell it was a woman but he didn't have the slightest idea of who she was. And this early in the morning he didn't care either.

"A little bit of a grouch in the mornings, I see," said the unidentified woman, a quiver of a chuckle in her voice. "I am sometimes like that myself."

Harry forked a bit of egg into his mouth and mumbled around it, "I am not a grouch, madam. I am simply tired of mornings and wish that the day started later." _Dear God, I sound like Sev. Oh well, could be worse. I could sound like Lockhart. Oh gods, that's a horrid thought…_

"But if the day started later, that would still be considered morning, would it not?"

_Cripes, another Hermione._ "No, it would not. If the day started in the afternoon, it would be afternoon, not morning. Don't attempt to change the classifications of the day. Some people don't get them as is."

The woman laughed and sat down in the empty chair beside him, which caused Harry to shift uncomfortably. He had come into the Hall early to _avoid_ contact with many people. His night had not been good as his dreams had been filled with visions of Ginny dying over and over again. He had woken up in a cold sweat seven different times.

"Uncomfortable, Professor Potter?"

"No," lied Harry. "And please…call me Harry. I'm not used to the students calling me Professor, let alone another teacher." He turned to look at her for the first time and arched an eyebrow. "Assuming you _are_ another teacher. Perhaps you are a student."

The woman laughed, a low, throaty sound that was rich. It was a pleasant laugh, which made Harry smile mentally. If someone had a pleasant laugh, it generally meant they were a person one could stand being around for long periods of time. Ginny had had a pleasant laugh…

Don't think about it. Don't think about Ginny or Aubrey or anything. It's been thirteen years! MOVE ON! 

Harry quickly flicked his eyes over the woman, studying her. She was trim with a willowy sort of form that gave an illusion of height. If he judged correctly, she wouldn't come up to his shoulder if they were standing. Her dark hair was cropped short to just below her ears and a bit wild, a little like his had been before he'd allowed it to grow out. She had a handsome face with a dainty nose, angel-bow lips, and the most expressive blue eyes he'd ever seen. There was a scar across her nose and two slashes through her right eyebrow, the sort of cuts you got after being punched. He wondered absently where they'd come from.

All in all she was an attractive woman.

She smiled at him (which did interesting things to her lips) and said, "I assure you I am not a student."

"What do you teach then?" asked Harry, pushing his plate away so he could lean his elbow on the table.

"I'm actually studying with Professor Flitwick – I mean, Aubrey – for my Master's in Charms."

"I see. So you're…" Harry flicked his fingers as he tried to think of the term. "Ah! A journeywoman."

"Yes. He has been talking about asking the Headmistress if I may be given his position after he retires." She smiled and looked up at the enchanted ceiling with a sigh. "I would love to stay in the country."

Harry frowned, finally catching what was weird about her voice. It was a beautiful voice with an underlying accent of…something… Damn, he couldn't place it.

"You're not from around here, Miss…"

"Tatchya," she said hurriedly. "Mischa Tatchya."

"German?" asked Harry.

"Lithuanian," corrected Mischa. "And please, no 'Miss.' Just Mischa."

"Very well…Mischa. It has been a pleasure to speak with you but I am afraid I must go get ready for my first class."

"Ah. It had been a pleasure speaking with you as well, Harry. I hope we can talk again?" Her last remark was a question and she looked curiously at him after she had said it.

Harry smiled briefly as he rose and pushed his chair up under the table. "Perhaps," he said in reply. "Good day."

"I thought it was not a good day!" called Mischa jokingly after him as he left the Great Hall. Harry just chuckled and kept on walking.

Perhaps it might be a good day after all.

* * *

"MISS CADDEN!"

"Sir?" said the first year Ravenclaw, looking fearfully up at him. She flinched away as he leaned down towards her, a dark scowl across his face. Of course, it wasn't his look she was afraid of.

It was the darkness swirling across his serpentine eyes.

"Miss Cadden," purred Harry, "is this not a Defense Against the Dark Arts class?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"Then _why_ are you reading _that_ in my classroom?" Harry jabbed his finger at the corner of the magazine he could see lying across the girl's lap.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"I know you are, Miss Cadden," said Harry, his eyes returning to green. "Two points from Ravenclaw for not paying attention. Now, back to the lesson. Where was I?"

"Page 25, Professor," piped Tristen.

"Thank you, Mister Snape. Ah, yes, Red Cap's…also called what, Miss Cadden?"

"Er…"

"Look in your book, child, not at my face. The answer isn't written there."

"Sorry, sir," mumbled Melinda Cadden, ducking her head. She then sneaked a glance at his face again and Harry sighed.

"Alright," he said. "Everyone close your books."

Several of the Slytherin's looked at each other curiously then jumped as Tristen snapped, "You heard him! Close your books!"

"That will be enough, Tristen," said Harry, frowning slightly at his godson. The eleven-year-old looked abashed and ducked his head.

"Sorry, Professor."

Harry smiled tightly then looked about the room as he leaned back on his desk.

"Now, I assume all of you have heard about the last battle of the war thirteen years ago. Correct?"

Heads nodded feebly in response.

"Good. I suppose none of you heard of how my eyes came to be…afflicted."

Every head but Tristen's shook. He knew the story by heart practically, having begged his godfather for the tale after he noticed that his eyes weren't like anyone else's.

"Of course not," said Harry. "No one but my closest of friends ever knew. Now…all of you will. _But_ I will not have the story changed in any fashion. Understood?"

Heads nodded quickly in response.

"Good. It was my sixth year and Professor Dumbledore, the Headmaster of the time, called me to his office. He had discovered that I was an Heir of Slytherin and feared that I might join Voldemort. So he placed a spell on me."

"What sort of spell, sir?" piped a Slytherin.

"The best I can describe it is that it felt like lightning running over and over through my body. A horrid experience, if there ever was one."

"And your eyes changed?" asked a Ravenclaw.

Harry shook his head and said, "No. The original effect of the curse is death (several gasped here). But one of my friend's was – and still is – an expert at Potion making and had handled this spell before. He healed me but with one side effect." He gestured at his serpentine eyes and continued, "My eyes. The spell seems to only do as such with Heir's of Slytherin."

"Like Voldemort?" asked a Slytherin. "Wasn't he an Heir of Slytherin?"

"Yes, he was. More distantly related than myself, however. More of a half-blooded Heir than a full-blooded one."

"Did your friend fix Voldemort too?" asked the same Ravenclaw from earlier.

"He did."

"How?" asked several Slytherin's at once.

"He was transformed by a potion into his fifteen-year-old self a year before," said Tristen quietly before Harry could speak. "He took on the identity of his 'son' until his seventh year, when he revealed the truth of who he was."

"Who?" chorused half the class.

"Severus Snape," said Harry before his godson could reply. "One of the best Potion Master's in the wizarding world. He was my teacher, friend, and partner in mischief. Still is, to be exact."

"But how did he fix Voldemort?" asked a Ravenclaw.

Tristen softly said, "He was a Death Eater. And a spy for Dumbledore."

Several mouths fell open in shock. Harry smiled slightly then looked up at the bell rang.

"Alright then. Pack it up and off to your next class. Read the chapter on Red Cap's and be prepared for a quiz tomorrow!"

"Yes, Professor!" chorused several voices as the class bustled out of the room. As they trailed out, Harry slowly made his way over to Tristen, who was sitting numbly in his chair. He laid his hand on the boy's shoulder, causing him to jump.

"Sorry."

"S'okay, Uncle. I'm sorry I spoke out."

Harry smiled and said, "You know the story. Heh, you can probably tell it better than _I can,_ you've heard it so much."

Tristen smiled at the compliment and said, "Thanks. You do know that by next class, the entire story will have changed."

"Don't I know it," muttered Harry. "You'd better get going or you'll be late. What class do you have?"

"Transfiguration."

"Ah, with the new professor. I wish McGonagall had kept the job."

"So do I," said Tristen. "I had her Tuesday. Ick…"

Harry smiled at his godson as the boy chucked his book into his bag. "That bad, eh?"

"Yeah. Y'know how Dad used to treat you before?"

"How could I forget?" asked Harry. "This woman – Moon, is it? – does the same?"

Tristen only nodded and Harry shook his head, scribbling something on a scrap of paper. He handed it to the elven-year-old and said, "Here. Give this to her if you're late and if she gets you for it, you can tell her to speak with me."

"'Kay. Bai, Uncle."

"Bye, Tris." Harry watched his godson trounce off down the corridor and stretched, waiting for his third year class to come in.


	5. Miss the Colors

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 5 – Miss the Colors**

"Professor Potter!"

Harry groaned softly and kept on walking. He did not need this confrontation right now.

"Potter! I need to speak with you!"

"But must you sound like Sev when you do it?" grumbled Harry under his breath as he stopped. Turning slowly about, he watched as Jupiter Moon stalked towards him.

_My God, she is imitating Sev_, thought Harry. _Either that or its just a coincidence_.

"Yes, Professor? What do you need?"

Moon glared at him, growling, "I need you to teach your students some discipline for one thing. Always running about late for my classes – and talking back to me! I have never experienced such atrocious behavior!"

"You should have been here fifteen years ago," muttered Harry.

"What was that?"

Harry shook his head and said loudly, "Professor Moon, it is not my duty to teach the students who look to me discipline. And dare I say that _all_ of the members of Slytherin House are disciplined…"

"Then explain to me…"

"I wasn't finished," growled Harry.

"Oh." Moon swallowed hard as she glanced up into the serpentine eyes. "Sorry."

"Thank you. As I was saying, all of the members of my House are quite well disciplined. I cannot say it is your teaching method that prompts them to act the way they do but according to a young friend of mine, you could do well with being a little nicer in the classroom." Harry smiled tightly and added, "After all, there is no more need to whip and/or force the Dark out of the Slytherin's. In my opinion, there never was."

"B-b-but," sputtered Moon.

Harry held up a hand to silence the woman, a smirk playing across his features.

"Now, now, Professor. I know from experience about the trials Slytherin's have been put through to 'whip' the Dark out of them."

Moon looked confused at that statement.

"B-but I thought you were a Gryffindor…"

"I am an Heir of Slytherin," said Harry darkly. "I am therefore a Slytherin and evil. Is that not the truth?"

Moon, now white and nervous, could only sputter in response.

"I shall take that as a 'yes'," muttered Harry. "The point is…the war is over, Professor. And if there _was_ one, forcing the Dark out of someone would not help. Allowing them to see what the Darkness really is…_there's_ something to do. Do we understand each other?"

"Perfectly," breathed Moon, staring at him.

"Very good. Now, if you'll excuse me…"

Harry turned on a heel, a smirk on his face, and walked off briskly. Behind him, Moon just stared and opened and closed her mouth a few times in shock.

* * *

"Good eve, Harry," purred Mischa as she fell into step beside him. She had been waiting outside the Charms classroom for him to pass by. "What is this smirk about?"

Harry just continued to smirk and asked, "Do you know Professor Moon?"

"That drab old woman? Aye, I know her. She tried to…ah, what is the phrase the Americans use?"

"Hit on you?" Harry blinked and said, "She tried to _hit on you_?"

"Yes. That is the one." She nodded absently. "She did. But I set her in her place."

"Oh really? I'd like to hear this one."

"I should like to hear the story behind that smirk of yours as well. Shall we discuss it over dinner perhaps?"

Harry smiled and said, "That's the best suggestion I've heard all day."

Mischa laughed at that.

"Dinner or the discussion?"

"Both, Miss…Mischa. Both."

"I see. Shall we go to dinner then? I heard a rumor that the house-elves had prepared a dish from my homeland."

"Really?" said Harry. "Well then we should hurry before it gets taken." He courteously offered her his arm, which she took with a smile.

"Lead on, kind sir."

"As you wish, milady."

* * *

"Now that's an interesting match," muttered Flitwick as Mischa and Harry entered the Great Hall, the journeywoman on the Heir of Slytherin's arm. "Don't you think so, Minerva?"

"An interesting match, indeed," replied McGonagall, watching as the two chatted amiably on their way up to the Head Table. Harry was talking rapidly, his hands going through wild gestures and his eyes dancing. Mischa was watching him with a truly interested look on her face and appeared to be asking questions every once in a while. The sight brought a small smile to the Headmistresses face.

It was the happiest she had seen her ex-student since the last time he and Ginny had been together.

"Where did you say Miss Tatchya was from, Aubrey?"

"Lithuania," replied the small professor. "She's brilliant at Charms. Almost as good as Lily Potter."

"Almost as good as Lily? I see why you suggested she take over for you when you retire."

"Indeed. I wonder what they're talking about… It seems to be intriguing Mischa."

McGonagall smiled and said, "Now, now, Aubrey, let's stay out of other people's lives. Especially Harry's. He has had enough people meddling in his affairs for a few lifetime's."

"I concur… Though I still wonder what they are talking about."

McGonagall laughed.

"Curiosity killed the cat, remember. Now, tell me again about this new charm of yours…"

* * *

"You had such adventures!" exclaimed Mischa as Harry courteously pulled out her chair for her. On their walk up to the Great Hall, he had begun telling her of the many 'adventures' he'd had in his years at Hogwarts. He personally preferred to think of them as a lot of trouble.

"I wouldn't call them 'adventures' myself," said Harry as he sat down beside her. "More like…stupidity. I was a foolish teenager, getting into things I didn't understand."

"True," said Mischa, nodding. "I can't imagine what it must have been like. Battling Voldemort nearly every year of your life."

"It wasn't what I dreamed about as a kid, I'll tell you that."

Speaking of which, what _had_ he dreamed of as a kid? Nothing that he could recall. What could a child who had lived in a cupboard for ten years of their life dream about?

"Harry?"

"Hmm?"

Mischa frowned at him as he blinked at her. "Are you alright?" she asked.

Harry smiled amiably and replied, "Fine. Just…thinking."

"About what? If I may ask, that is."

"I'd rather you not."

"As you wish," said Mischa. "I won't intrude on anyone's privacy."

Harry smiled.

"That's a fine trait. There are some people who cannot help but intrude upon things. Most of them being things they have no right to intrude upon."

"I agree," said Mischa with a nod. Then, softer, "Harry, why are your eyes swirling black?"

Harry blinked and flushed slightly as he turned away. He closed his eyes for a moment and took a deep breath, getting himself back under control. The memory of Dumbledore casting that spell upon him had returned and it had – as it always did – filled him with a quiet rage.

"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I…I had someone intrude onto something that was mine to worry about. The results were not pretty."

"But your eyes…"

"They are always swirling," interrupted Harry. "You just cannot see it. When I become angry, they begin to turn black. I'm sorry if I frightened you."

A gentle hand fell across his own and he looked up into Mischa's brilliant blue eyes. She smiled and said, "I'm certain that there are enough people afraid of you as is without me adding to the pile. Besides…you don't seem the sort of man who would be dangerous."

Harry scoffed at that comment. He began, "Now if you believe that…"

"Oh I don't," assured Mischa. "I believe you _are_ a dangerous man. To your enemies. But to allies? I think not."

Harry smiled. She seemed to have him down pat.

"Too true, Mischa. Too true."


	6. Can Anyone Tell

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 6 – Can Anyone Tell**  
  
"Uncle?" 

"Yes, Tris?"

"Do you like Miss Tatchya?"

Harry sputtered and sprayed his desk with coffee. Tristen blinked and mumbled, "Sorry."

Harry just stared at his godson.

"What prompted that question?"

"Well…you have been around her a lot. And you both seem to like each other."

"Have you been spying on me?" asked Harry, arching an eyebrow.

"No!" yelped Tristen. He then blushed and said, "Well…maybe a little."

"Tristen," growled Harry warningly. "What has your mother taught you…"

"Never eavesdrop," sighed Tristen. "But I didn't! I just…watched."

"And what has your mother told you about spying?"

"Never unless it's a good cause. Like Dad did…before."

Harry nodded slowly.

"A good lesson to remember."

"But I _do_ think Miss Tatchya likes you, Uncle. She's been asking me questions about you."

"What sort of questions?" asked Harry, frowning at his coffee covered desk. He looked thoughtful for a moment then waved his hand over his desk. The coffee evaporated, leaving several sheets of parchment exceptionally crisp-looking.

Tristen frowned for a moment then replied, "Well…the first thing she _ever_ asked me was what I thought of you."

"And what did you tell her?" asked Harry. He picked up one of the crisp-looking pieces of parchment and blinked when it crumbled in his hands. "Bollocks."

"That you were cool."

Harry grinned at his godson. "Just 'cool?' I thought I might rank a bit more than that."

"You do! I mean…well I didn't know what to say to her. I don't know what I think of you."

"Should I feel hurt or relieved?"

"_Uncle!_"

"Sorry, but you left that wide open."

Tristen scowled at him and Harry just laughed, reaching over his desk to ruffle his crop of dark hair.

"Sorry to say this, Tris, but you've got Mione's face. One of Sev's scowls does not sit well upon it."

"Thanks," grumped Tristen. He then said, "I'd better get back to my dorm."

"Hmm?" Harry glanced down at his watch and jumped. "Cripes. It's nearly midnight!"

"I noticed. Do you think…"

"Walk you back? Probably best. Mrs. Norris roams these corridors at night."

Tristen blinked as he followed his godfather out of his office.

"How do you know?"

"I like to walk at night. She sometimes walks with me."

"_What?_ I thought she didn't like anyone but Filch…"

"We…have an arrangement of sorts, that cat and I. I keep her company and feed her sometimes whilst she prowls the corridors near the dungeons to make sure none of you young serpents have slithered out of your den."

Tristen laughed and said, "You're one to talk!"

Harry just grinned and said, "I, my boy, am the Lord of Serpents."

"So we little serpents have to obey you?"

"Of course."

"Yes, oh master. Command me, oh master. Your will is my bidding, oh master." Tristen bowed deeply several times, causing Harry to laugh cheerily.

"Scamp!"

Tristen just grinned and the two fell into step together, Harry's hand on the eleven-year-old's shoulder. When they reached the hidden doorway to the Slytherin dormitories (which was only identifiable by the snake-shaped torches on either side of it) Harry heard someone coming up the other end of the corridor.

"Who's that?" whispered Tristen.

"I have no idea," replied Harry. He turned his head slightly towards the entrance and spat something in Parseltongue. To his ire, one of the snake-shaped torches turned its iron head towards him and flicked out its tongue.

"_Good eve, lord. What brings you to our domain?_"

Harry whipped his head around to glare coldly at the snake and he spat, "Open up, you."

"_Students may not enter after midnight. The door is locked._"

"You are the door guardian. Open it."

The snake shook its head. "_I cannot. The old Headmaster…_"

"Open, serpent!" snapped Harry, causing Tristen to jump as the words came out in an angry hiss. "Or suffer my wrath."

"_Very well, lord. Aspeth!_"

The other snake lifted its head.

"_What is it, Nafir?_"

"_An entry._"

"_There is no entry after midnight! You know that!_"

Nafir spat, "_The lord commands. We must obey. Headmaster's words are void to His._"

Aspeth snaps, "_The last lord died! This one must be an imposter._" He looks at Harry and _quivers._ "_Lord! Open! Open, Nafir!_"

"_That is what I told you, old fool!_"

"Idiots," grumbled Harry in English, listening to the two snakes continue their arguing. As the wall slid open, blue wandlight began to glow from the corridor ahead of them.

"Uncle…" began Tristen.

"Go to bed," ordered Harry. "It's probably just a student out of bed." He gave the boy a gentle push inside then sharply ordered Aspeth and Nafir to close the door.

As soon as that was done, he stalked forward and threw himself around the corner. He called up a ball of white light and blinked as he saw Mischa standing there. Her dark hair was in disarray and her robes were torn in several places. There were odd bruises on her arms and one on her neck, all of which were smudged with dirt.

"Mischa?" he gasped. "What are you doing down here? I thought you were some wayward student."

Mischa shook her head and said, "I was…I was trying to get into the lower dungeons. But these – these spiders ran me out. I think one bit me…" She touched a spot on her left arm and winced.

"Let me see," murmured Harry, taking a step forward. He touch her arm in gentle fingers and motioned the ball of light downward so he could see. The bauble bounced in a small circle before coming to his call. Mischa stared at it as Harry probed at her wound.

"Ow!"

"Sorry." Harry ran his fingers over the bite, murmuring something under his breath. The wound darkened as black liquid began to seep out of it. Mischa saw it and shivered.

"What is it?"

"Poison," replied Harry. "Very slow acting. There shouldn't be any poisonous spiders down there…"

"You've been down there?"

"A few times. Come on. I have something in my rooms to fix this up with."

"It'll be fine," said Mischa.

Harry gave her a skeptical look and said, "You need bandages and a potion to stop the bleeding. I have both in my rooms."

"Ah," said Mischa, as he began to lead her back towards the stairs out of the dungeons. "Not only an expert at fighting the Dark Arts but a Healer and a Potion's Master as well."

"Now your being sarcastic."

"I am sometimes. Does it put you off?"

Harry snorted.

"_'Put me off?'_ Please, Mischa. I've been exposed to sarcasm since I came to Hogwarts."

"Ah."

They continued up to Harry's rooms, where he tapped out an odd rhythm on the oak door. Mischa blinked and said, "Is that…Men at Work's _Dr. Heckyll and Mr. Jive_?"

Harry blinked at her and said, "You know it? Not even Sev recognizes it."

"My mother is half-Muggle. When I was little, she used to play them all of the time. I'm surprised _you_ would know them."

"I have an odd taste in music," said Harry, pushing his door open and motioning Mischa inside. "My aunt and uncle had a stash of tapes in their attic. I found an old stereo with them and started listening to them."

"What were they?" asked Mischa, as she looked around his room.

Harry shrugged and began rummaging through one of his drawers.

"Oh, mostly eighties stuff. Men at Work, a few American hair bands, and – to my surprise – Black Sabbath."

"Why is that surprising?"

"You'd have to know my aunt and uncle," replied Harry solemnly as he walked over to a cupboard and opened one door. Mischa blinked at the number of stored potions.

"Are you expecting someone to attack you?"

"I learned a long time ago that it's good to be prepared," said Harry, plucked a small phial out of the cabinet. He then walked over to her and sat the phial, a roll of gauze, an almost depleted roll of Spell-o-tape, and a soft cloth. Kneeling down in front of her, he took her arm in gentle fingers and cleaned off the poison and blood with the cloth. Mischa hissed softly a few times but never said anything. Harry continued to clean the wound then he reached out and grabbed the phial off the table. He poured it over the wound and Mischa watched it awe as the potion pulled itself together and filled in the lines of the bite mark, instantly hardening.

"Amazing. Where did you learn to make that?"

"Sev," was Harry's simple reply as he began to slowly wrap the gauze about the bite mark. "Now, the potion'll allow it to heal and this will keep you from knocking any of it off." He cut the length of gauze with a murmured charm and secured it with the last of the Spell-o-tape.

"There," he said cheerfully. "All better." He turned to smile at Mischa and was surprised to find their faces very close together.

"Thank you," said Mischa softly, leaning in closer.

Harry could feel her breath on his face now. She smelt of…lilies.

"You're welcome," his murmured. "Mischa…"

Her lips brushed his and she whispered, "Harry…"

Then her lips met his in a fiery kiss.

Harry sank into it for a moment then he grabbed her upper arms and pushed her away. As she stared at him, looking very hurt, he breathed, "I can't, Mischa…I can't do this…"

"Why?" asked Mischa softly, reaching out to brush a lock of his hair behind his ear. "What happened to you? Why are you afraid?"

"I…I saw someone I loved die. She died in my arms."

"She?"

Harry nodded slowly.

"I'm sorry, Mischa. But I can't."

"You are afraid to get in a relationship lest you lose them. Is that right?"

"Get out," hissed Harry, standing hurriedly. "Now." He didn't want to answer that question.

Mischa rose and started to follow him.

"Harry, answer me…"

"_Get out!_" snapped Harry. His control over his magic slipped sideways and a wave of power flowed out from him. It nearly bowled Mischa over but she stood against it.

"Harry…"

Harry closed his eyes and whispered, "_Please._ Please, leave."

Mischa nodded slowly and said, "Alright. I will leave. Thank you for the bandages." Harry heard her boots cross the floor and winced as she slammed the door behind her.

"Oh God," he breathed, collapsing into the chair she had vacated. He rubbed his hands over his face and tried to make some sense out of the muddle his brain had become.

His lips still tingled from her kiss.

Medusa wandered out of his bedroom suddenly, a toy mouse clutched in her mouth. When she saw her master slouched in the chair, she dropped the mouse and leapt into his lap from halfway across the room.

"Mrow?"

"Hey, girl," sighed Harry. "I think I just made a mess of a good friendship. What do you think?"

Medusa tilted her head to the side and blinked at him.

"Mrow."

"Oh, you don't think so? Heh."

"Mrow," said Medusa, batting at her master's hand as she rolled over onto her back. Harry dipped his hand into the soft fur on her belly and was rewarded with a purr.

"I'm glad I can please someone tonight," he said tiredly.


	7. Where I Am

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 7 – Where I Am**  
  
"Good morning, Mischa," said Flitwick to the dark-haired young woman as she walked past him towards her seat at the Head Table. 

"What's good about it?" snarled Mischa, not even pausing. Flitwick blinked and moved to follow her down the table. As soon as she was seated, he spoke.

"What is wrong, my dear?"

Mischa shook her head and replied, "Professor, I don't want to talk about it. I really don't."

Flitwick gave her a disapproving look then nodded and returned to his seat. A second later McGonagall replaced him, sitting down in her chair. Mischa had deliberately sat next to the Headmistress to get away from Harry.

And he noticed it when he came in. His face fell a little then he completely ignored her.

McGonagall noticed this and peered curiously at Mischa.

"Is there some trouble between you and Harry?"

Mischa looked at the older woman for a moment, then muttered something in her native tongue before leaning towards her.

"May I ask why Harry is afraid to get into a relationship?"

McGonagall blinked.

"You mean…you never heard?"

"Heard what?"

"In the last battle in the war against Voldemort there were several students that died. Only three were buried on the grounds. Neville Longbottom, Ronald Weasley, and Virginia Weasley."

"I remember hearing the second name," said Mischa. "He was Voldemort's second in the battle. The one that broke the wards."

"Yes," said McGonagall. "He called himself Aubrey then. Harry fought him, all the way to the end. And he killed him. But at a cost…"

"What?"

McGonagall looked sadly at the young woman and replied, "Virginia Weasley – _Ginny_ – his first love was killed by Aubrey, her own brother. She died in Harry's arms."

"Oh Merlin," breathed Mischa. "That's why he doesn't want to get close to anyone?"

"Yes, my dear. Yes, indeed."

Mischa spared a glance towards Harry. He turned his head slightly towards her and their eyes met for a moment before he turned away. Mischa felt like a ball of lead had hit her stomach. No wonder he had pushed her away…

McGonagall frowned at her suddenly and said, "Why do you ask?"

"I…" began Mischa only to be cut off.

"You've fallen in love with him, haven't you?"

Mischa's burning cheeks betrayed her and she ducked her head. McGonagall smiled and nodded, seemingly to herself. She then reached out and lifted the younger woman's chin.

"There's nothing wrong with it, my dear. There are many who love him – myself included. But I tell you now, if you wish to breach the walls he has put up against a woman's love, it will be a hard trip." She smiled slightly and continued, "I suspect he believes that if he falls in love again, she shall be taken away form him once more."

"But…that's not so!" said Mischa. "There is no threat of that happening again."

"To Harry there is _always_ the threat of something happening. Remember that as well, my dear."

"I will," promised Mischa, glancing in Harry's direction again.

So it would take some time to break through his defenses, would it? The question was: was he worth it? Was he worth the trouble?

Mischa smiled as some far corner of her mind answered.

_Yes, he is._

* * *

"Professor Potter!"

"Professor Potter, help!"

Harry blinked and turned his direction from the ceiling. He'd been walking towards his classroom, daydreaming and had not noticed what was going on ahead of him in the corridor.

"Professor Potter!" yelled a fourth year Hufflepuff, running up to him.

"What is going on?" asked Harry.

"Its two Slytherin's, sir. They just jumped each other in the hall!"

Harry scowled and gently moved the fourth year aside. He stalked towards the group surrounding the two combatants and snapped, "Is this a battle ground or a school? _Clear off, all of you!_"

Students scattered in every direction, giving Harry a good look at the two combatants. Both of whom had frozen at the sound of his voice.

One of them was lying limply on the ground, right leg kicking feebly. The other was crouched over them, arm cocked back to throw another punch. Harry could distinctly smell blood.

"Misssster Housssse," he hissed with an imperious narrowing of his eyes. He was aware of the fact that he was channeling a bit of Professor Snape's menacing voice and Voldemort's terror-creating eyes together at once.

The boy crouched atop the other figure looked at him in sudden fear.

"Pro-professor Potter!"

"I'm glad you know my name, Mister House," purred Harry. "Now, will you please get off whoever it is underneath you?"

"Yes, sir," said House and moved.

"_Tristen?_" exclaimed Harry as he saw his godson lying there, one eye already turned purple and his nose crooked slightly to the left. The boy also had a split lip for his trouble.

"'Lo, Uncle," muttered Tristen, feebly sitting up. "How are you?"

Harry scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, looking from one boy to the other.

"Waiting for an explanation," he rumbled. "Who would care to explain?"

"Sir!" cried House. "Snape jumped me! I had to fight back!"

At that, Harry's scowl deepened. He took a long step forward and grabbed House's chin, turning the second year's face from one side to the other. "You seem to be intact," he growled finally. "Tell me another one, Mister House."

"Uncle…" began Tristen. "Uncle, it was nothing…"

"Tristen Amadeus Oberon Snape, do not tell me _that_ is nothing." Harry waved a hand at the boy's bruised face and continued, "These are not nothing. Now what happened? Or shall I have to use the only vial of Veritaserum your father gave me on the both of you?"

"That's illegal!" cried House, earning a dark scowl from Harry.

"Not so long as no one knows of the incident. Now…which of you will tell me what happened? And I want the truth of the matter."

House glared at Tristen, who stared defiantly back. The dark-haired boy pushed himself up slowly, gaining his feet unsteadily.

"He was teasing Fiona Apple – she's a Gryffindor – and I told him to stop. When he didn't, I told him that if he didn't stop, someone would stop him. He turned around and asked who would stop him. I said 'me' and he laughed." Tristen scowled at House as he added, "Right before he slugged me."

"That's not true!" yelled House.

"Mister House," said Harry, "my godson if one of the most truthful people I know. But since there seems to be some contention, I will speak to Miss Apple."

"Is that it?"

"No, that is _not_ it. For fighting in the corridors I shall take away fifteen points each from Slytherin House."

"But there was no magic!" exclaimed House.

Tristen scowled and snapped, "Just shut up, Nathan. We're in enough trouble as is."

"Fuck off, Snape!"

"_Language, Mister House!_" hissed Harry. He frowned at the two boy's and said, "I am tempted to make both of you serve detention with me but I won't. _But_…if I catch the two of you fighting again, I will not only see you have detention with me, I shall see you both cleaning every bathroom in Hogwarts. _Including_ the Prefect's and Moaning Myrtle's. _Without magic._ Are we understood?"

"Yes, professor," mumbled both boys, looking respectively downcast.

"Good," said Harry. "Mister House, go on to your class. If your professor finds your tardiness irksome, do explain what happened. Mister Snape, report to the hospital wing."

"Yes, sir," muttered House, grabbing his bag and taking off down the corridor. Tristen picked up his own with a wince and started to head towards the hospital wing when his godfather's hand fell on his shoulder. The first year blinked and looked up at him.

"Uncle Harry?"

Harry smiled and said, "That was very noble of you, Tristen, but please…try not to get into more trouble than needed. I cannot save you every time."

"I know," said Tristen. "And if I ever meet a situation that's too troublesome, I'll be sure to call you."

"Now you're just being smart."

"I know. Bye, Uncle."

"Bye, Tris," said Harry, turning to watch his godson walk down the corridor, noting a slight limp in the boy's step. As he watched him, he sensed someone watching _him_ and looked around. Green eyes locked with cornflower blue and Mischa smiled gently at him.

Harry nodded to her and turned to head to his class. He couldn't talk to her after last night.

Not yet.


	8. Now Again

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 8 – Now Again**  
  
_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiing!_

"Read chapter 14 for next class and write me a one page report on werewolves!" bellowed Harry as his sixth year class hurriedly packed up their things. "_Is that understood?_"

"_Yes, professor!_" chorused several voices back to him and he smiled.

His smile quickly faded as he saw Mischa peeking into the room. It had been almost a month since that incident in his rooms and they had not talked during that time. A few pieces of small talk here and there but nothing about that night.

He suspected that was what she was appearing at his door for.

When the last of the students cleared away, the dark-haired woman entered, easing the door shut behind her. "Hello, Harry," she said softly.

"Mischa," said Harry with a short nod of his head.

"I was wondering if we could talk."

"About what?"

Mischa gave him a vague frown and replied, "I think you know."

Harry sat down behind his desk and straightened a stack of tests that he had given the 7th years early in the day. A stray quill caught his attention and he glared at it. The quill jumped up onto its nib and bounced over to the cup where two rather ratty looking quills resided.

"Elaborate," he said as he pushed the tests aside.

"The incident in your rooms," hissed Mischa. "Harry, please don't do this to me. Don't turn away."

Harry scowled up at her from underneath his dark hair and growled, "I have no need for a relationship."

"Everyone needs love, Harry! When was the last time you had that?"

"I have love!" exploded Harry, rising from his chair to tower over her. "There are several people out there in the world that love me!"

Mischa gave him a downcast look and softly said, "A woman's love?"

Harry's blood froze in his veins and his right hand began to tremble. He tightened it into a fist and looked down at his desk.

"Not in a very long time," he whispered. "I don't need it anymore."

"Bullshit!" snapped Mischa, causing him to stare at her. "Everyone needs someone to love."

Harry gave her a sorrowful look and said, "I lost the ability to love a long time ago. Good day, Mischa."

"But…"

"_Good day, Miss Tatchya!_"

Mischa scowled and cried, "You are the most…_infuriating_ man that I have ever laid eyes upon!"

"I'm certain that is not true," said Harry, looking at one of the 7th year's tests. "Have you ever met Severus Snape?"

"No."

"He's more infuriating than me, I assure you."

Mischa growled and strode forward, snatching the test out of his hand. She then swept everything off of his desk with a sweep of her arm and jumped up onto it, crouching so their faces were close.

"You are an infuriating man," she said. "And it infuriates _me_ that I am allured by you. It infuriates me that you hide behind that mask you put on for the world. How long have you hidden behind it, Harry? Years? _Thirteen years?_"

Harry could feel himself beginning to tremble again.

"Get out," he hissed, scowling at her.

"The eyes of a serpent do not scare me," hissed Mischa. "I played with poisonous serpents as a child and I have no fear for them. Especially not one that lacks fangs."

Harry snarled and lunged at her, causing her to lean backwards with a gasp. She wavered for a moment but remain balanced on the edge of his desk.

"For a snake that lacks fangs," he purred, "you seem to fear me."

"Fear is not the same as surprise," shot back Mischa. "Now answer my question. How long have you been hiding?"

Harry scowled at her.

"Get out."

"I shall not get out until I have an answer!"

"Then we shall we here for a very long time, my dear!" bellowed Harry.

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

The two of them glared at each other, neither backing down. From the doorway – unbeknownst to them – McGonagall watched them, a smile on her face. She shook her head and gently eased the door closed.

She dearly hoped that Mischa could break through Harry's walls. No one had as of yet and someone needed to.

* * *

"This is boring."

"You're the one that refused to leave."

"Well, if _someone_ wasn't being such an _ass_."

Harry scowled at Mischa, who was perched on the edge of his desk, then returned to his reading.

"Oh," said Mischa, "ignoring me now, are we?"

"Yes," said Harry, turning a page.

"Well then I'll have to remedy that." With that she began to sing, softly at first then growing louder in volume. Harry scowled at her over the top of his book as she continued to belt out a song in what he assumed was her native language.

"_Must_ you be so bothersome?" he yelled over her, not taking his eyes off his book.

"Yes!" replied Mischa, shifting about so she faced him. "I must be bothersome because you are infuriating!"

"Madam, I truly don't give a damn."

"Oh, its _'madam'_ now, is it? What happened to _Mischa_?"

"Very well," growled Harry, slamming his book down on his desk. "_Mischa_. Get the hell out of my classroom!"

"_No!_" yelled Mischa, glaring at him. Harry stood up, towering over her, and started to say something when the door creaked open. Two sets of angry eyes snapped towards the door and they bellowed as one, "_WHAT?!_"

There was a yelp from the other side of the door and it slammed shut. They could hear someone running away and looked at each other before they burst out laughing.

"Poor thing," said Mischa. "We probably scared some student out of their wits."

"That is very likely," said Harry, still chuckling. He shook his head and gave her an odd look from underneath his fringe of dark hair. Mischa noticed it and blinked at him.

"What?"

"You…you just remind me a little of someone I used to know. Your personalities were the same."

"Virginia?" said Mischa softly.

Harry turned eyes that were partially swirling black upon her.

"What was that?"

"Virginia," repeated Mischa. "Weasley. The girl who died in the last battle with Voldemort."

Harry looked at her for a long moment before he said, "Who told you about that?"

"Minerva."

"Of course," muttered Harry. He walked over to the only window in the room and looked down onto the grounds. His eyes strayed towards three gray dots that he could barely make out on a hill. "She would be the one."

"I don't understand…"

"Minerva McGonagall has taken me under her wing since I was fifteen years old," explained Harry. "She cares about my welfare more than anyone I know. Except perhaps Molly Weasley."

He leaned his head against the cool panes of the window and said, "Thirteen years ago, I was forced to watch the only person I had ever allowed myself to love die and then I had to kill my best friend – _her brother_. I have not loved anyone since."

"Harry," said Mischa, "choosing not to love is like choosing not to breath. It's killing yourself from the inside."

"You don't understand…"

"_What?_" exclaimed Mischa. She hopped down from his desk and moved to stand beside him, staring hard at his face. "What don't I understand? That you are so afraid to lose the people you love that you cut yourself off from love itself? If that's so, what about that boy? The Snape boy."

"Tristen has nothing to do with this."

"Oh but he does," said Mischa. "You love him, don't you? He means something to you."

Harry's head whipped up and he glared fiercely at her. He snarled, "The love I feel for my godson is not the same as what I felt for Ginny." He snapped his teeth shut over the words, '_And as I have begun to feel for you'._

"Harry, it is so close that the lines are almost blurred. You love him enough to protect him, to do anything for him – even kill."

Harry looked down at her for a long moment before he slowly nodded.

"That's the same sort of love a man and a woman share." Mischa felt tears prickle in the corner of her eyes as she added, "_I love you, Harry_. I want to know more about you. I want to spend the night in your arms. I want to be the only person in your life."

"That's just it," said Harry softly. "You wouldn't be. Ginny's still _here_." He touched the area above his heart. "I still love her. Even if…if we were together, you'd be sharing me with a ghost."

Mischa smiled and gently took the hand he held over his heart in her own. She brought it to her lips and gently planted a kiss on a sword-scarred knuckle. Cornflower eyes lifted up to meet emerald as she whispered, "I could share you with a ghost. You loved her. You still do. I understand that. Can't I love you too? Can't you love me?"

Harry looked down at her for a long moment before he reached out and drew her close against him. Mischa gasped as he bent his head and his lips trapped hers in a kiss full of fire. When Harry pulled back, his eyes were swirling a sort of gray-green.

"I can try," he whispered. "I can make the attempt."

Mischa smiled up at him and said, "That's all I ask."

Harry nodded and said, "I will try. I…I do feel for you, Mischa."

Mischa just smiled and hugged him, laying her head against his shoulder. Harry gingerly wrapped his arms around her, his cheek pillowed against her hair. The part of him that had died in the same moment as Ginny screamed in agony but the part that had lived on, that had grown up and had knelt in front of her grave…that part said that this was right.


	9. Found Myself

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 9 – Found Myself**

The next morning (Saturday) found Mischa awakening to strange surroundings. She opened her eyes and immediately knew that she was not in her own bed. Her sheets were not dark blue for one thing and weren't charmed to stay at the perfect temperature either.

She sat up, gathering the sheet about her as she looked around the room. A sheathed katana hung to the left of the doorway, which was shielded from the room beyond by a black curtain, and several different objects and picture lined a long table underneath it. In one picture, Mischa could make out a younger Harry accompanied by a boy with dark hair streaked green. A girl with bushy-brown hair appeared to be scolding the both of them then was stopped when both boys tackled her and all three vanished from the picture. Harry reappeared a second later with a red-headed girl clinging to his back. Both were laughing happily and waved at her from the frame.

Mischa smiled sadly at the picture. She didn't know who the other boy and girl were but the redhead had to be Ginny Weasley.

Another picture was of Harry and the other boy dressed in Quidditch robes. The black/green-haired boy had a Quaffle tucked under one arm while Harry was holding a Snitch captive, its wings fluttering wildly. Both grinned goofily at her for a moment before they pounced on each other, Quaffle and Snitch forgotten. Mischa saw the Quaffle roll out of the frame but the Snitch flitted about the two boy's heads as they rough-housed.

The last picture was a Muggle one instead of a wizard one. It was of Harry and Ginny at some ball. Harry was dressed in a pair of sleek bottle green robes whilst Ginny was in an emerald green dress. They both were smiling at each other and Mischa felt that if it were a wizarding photograph, they would be slowly dancing as they leaned in to kiss each other.

It made her feel like an outsider.

Quickly she turned her attention to the other objects on the table. There was an old Firebolt lying there, still looking as though it got a good bit of use. In front of it was a Sneakoscope balancing on its tip, a stack of Chocolate Frog cards, a moving model of a Hungarian Horntail that was currently asleep, and an ornate dagger that looked as though blood had been allowed to dry on it.

The dagger disturbed her but everything else gave her a mild look at Harry – as she figured this was his room.

That was when she noticed that A) she wasn't wearing any clothes and B) a small black cat with huge almond-shaped eyes was perched at the end of the bed. She blinked at the creature, trying to remember what had happened the night before (particularly why she wasn't wearing any clothes), then said, "Hey, there."

The cat tilted its head to the side and said, "Mrow," before it leapt off the bed and dove underneath the curtain to the next room. Mischa blinked after it then jumped when the curtain was pulled aside and Harry stepped through. Her jaw dropped as she saw that he was only wearing a pair of blue jeans that were rather ragged in the knee area.

He smiled at her and sat down on the edge of the bed as he extended a cup of something foul smelling towards her.

"Here. You probably don't remember anything from last night." He blushed slightly as he continued, "I have this system of wards that erases the memory of anyone it isn't set to recognize. I forgot about it. Sorry."

"S'okay," said Mischa as she took the cup.

"Hold your nose," suggested Harry as she grimaced at it. "I'm sorry about the smell. There's probably a way to get rid of it but as Sev's told me before, the worse a potion smells, the more potent it is."

Mischa grimaced again and said, "I'll take your word on it." She then held her nose and downed the contents of the cup in one go. As she began to cough, Harry took the cup and began to gently rub her bare back. A few seconds later, Mischa's memories of the night returned and she began to hiccup uncontrollably.

"Whoa!" exclaimed Harry. "You okay?"

"Y-yes," choked Mischa. She coughed then looked into his eyes. "We didn't…did we?"

Harry frowned and said, "You don't remember?"

"Oh I do! I just…"

"You thought it didn't happen?"

Mischa nodded and Harry smiled gently.

"It did, trust me. I've got several bite marks to prove it." He rose and went back through the curtain, leaving Mischa to gap after him.

_Bite marks?_ she thought in a horrified tone. _Oh dear…_

Harry reappeared a moment later and she gasped. He frowned at her and said, "What?"

Mischa stared at him with wide eyes as she breathed, "That scar…"

Harry blinked then looked down at the vicious scar that ripped its way across his stomach.

"Yeah," he said slowly, "that's what happens when you get a sword shoved through your stomach."

"Your friend?" questioned Mischa, remembering him saying that he had had to kill his best friend.

Harry only nodded and sat down on the end of the bed. The black cat from earlier padded into the room and leapt up onto his knee, purring gently.

"What's her name?" asked Mischa, turning her eyes away from the almost identical scar that shone on Harry's back.

"Medusa," came the reply. "Tristen has a cat like her. Calls her Trieste. If you ever see a gray ball with black stripes clinging to him, that'd be her."

"Such a fearsome name for such a tiny thing," said Mischa, leaning forward past Harry to scratch behind Medusa's ear. The cat purred and closed her eyes in pleasure, tilting her head towards the scratching hand.

Harry turned to smile at her and said, "I think she likes you."

"Does she like everyone?"

"She doesn't like the twins anymore. They gave her a booby-trapped piece of fish that had her on the ceiling for two days afterward."

Mischa looked curiously up at him, unmindful of the fact that the angle gave Harry a very interesting look down in the space between the sheet and her body.

"Who?"

"Fred and George Weasley," said Harry. "Tricksters by trade – which makes their mother very testy."

"You do know that there's a Weasley in third year, don't you?"

"Yes, she's Charlie's oldest."

"Charlie?"

Harry laughed and said, "I'd better explain. Let me find that pad of mine…" He glanced about the room then dumped Medusa into Mischa's arms as he got up to cross the room. When he returned a second later, he held a large black notebook and a black ballpoint pen.

Mischa arched an eyebrow at it and pointed out, "A Muggle pen?"

"I was raised by Muggle's. And these you don't have to refill every few words or so."

"There are quills that do that."

"I know," said Harry. "The charms wear off after a while. Have you seen those quills on my desk?"

"Yes…"

"That'd be them."

"Oh. What are you doing?" Mischa craned her neck to see what Harry was hurriedly jotting down on a blank sheet of paper.

"I," he replied, "am drawing you the present Weasley family tree. At the top we have Arthur and Molly, the current heads of the Weasley clan. Which is very large, I warn you now, and if you intend to spend _any_ time around me, you'll eventually meet some of them, if not all."

"I'll keep that in mind," said Mischa.

"Good. Now, Bill's the oldest and he's been married – er, twice? Yeah… First marriage was during my sixth year to Fleur Delacour and his oldest, Benjamin, is from that marriage. That ended when Benji was one and Bill married Mariana du Phitschal about three months later. They have four children now: Arana's the oldest at thirteen, Sarah and Samuel (they're twins) are twelve, and Melinda's ten."

Mischa blinked and said, "That's only one part?"

Harry nodded solemnly and continued, pointing out the next name he'd written down.

"Charlie's the second oldest and he has three children. Lillianne's the oldest – she's the third year you were talking about – and Christopher'll be coming in next year. Riana's only four, so she's the youngest of the Weasley bunch."

"Okay, I think I got that. What about his wife?"

"She…disappeared. Just after Riana was born."

Mischa frowned and asked, "Where'd she go?"

"No one knows. Now the twins…Fred is the oldest, I think. You can never trust them to tell you the truth about anything. And _never_ take anything from them either. They've probably charmed it to turn your hair into fire-breathing snakes."

"That'd be interesting."

Harry snorted and said, "Yes, well…anyway. Fred married Katie Bell a year out of Hogwarts and they just have one child because of Katie's complications with the birth. Mallia's twelve now. And George just got married about three years ago to Marissa Benton. They have a set of two-year-old twin girls now. Adriana and Amelie. Two more rascals if I've ever seen them."

"That's it?" said Mischa.

Harry nodded solemnly and dropped the pen onto the pad.

"Yeah," he said slowly, "that's it." He then picked up the pen and scribbled two names off to the right of George's. Mischa could barely make out the names _'Ron'_ and _'Ginny.'_ She noticed the far-off look in his eyes and leaned over to nudge his bare shoulder with her own. Green eyes blinked at her curiously and she smiled.

"What House's are all the children in? I must not have been paying much attention to have missed so many of them."

Harry smiled and replied, "They're just about everywhere. Benjamin and Arana are both Gryffindors, Sarah and Lillianne are Ravenclaw, Samuel's in Hufflepuff, and Mallia's a Slytherin. Fred nearly had a heart attack when he heard that."

"Does he have something against Slytherin's?" asked Mischa.

"All of them except me," replied Harry as he flipped the notebook closed. Mischa frowned in confusion at his words.

"Wait…I thought you were a Gryffindor."

Harry chuckled and turned to look at her with his serpentine eyes.

"My dear lady, you surely didn't think that I charmed my eyes this way, now did you?"

"You mean…?"

"Yes, serpentine eyes are the mark of an Heir of Slytherin. But only one who has been put under a certain charm and survived. I only know of two that ever have."

"Who?" asked Mischa.

Harry sighed and absently rubbed a set of dark scars on his right wrist.

"Myself and Voldemort. Both assisted by one Severus Snape."

Mischa blinked.

"Waitaminute. This Severus…is he the other boy in those photo's?" She pointed at the referred to items and Harry nodded. Mischa then continued, "But he's your age…"

Harry smiled and handed her a baggy shirt as he rose from his seat with a smile.

"It's a long and complicated story. Personally I'd rather be sitting in a nice, comfy chair with a cup of something warm when I tell it. Would you care to join me?"

"What's the cup of something warm?" asked Mischa as she took the proffered shirt with a wry smile.

Harry smiled slyly and replied, "You'll see."

"I look forward to it."

"Good."

Mischa smiled as Harry disappeared through the curtain, Medusa at his heels, before she pulled the shirt over her head and began to search around the bed for the pants she'd been wearing.


	10. So Far Down

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 10 – So Far Down**

Two hours later, Mischa had gotten a thorough history lesson and was blinking several times as she processed it. Harry was watching her with an amused smirk on his face, Medusa perched on his shoulder.

Mischa shook her head slowly and looked curiously at him.

"That _is_ a complicated story."

"Very," said Harry. "Looking back on it, its even more complicated than it was then."

Mischa smiled and said, "I find it amazing that you and Severus became friends after hating each other for four years."

"Now there's where many people are wrong. I _disliked_ Professor Snape as much as he did me. But I don't think we ever truly hated each other."

"Aren't they the same person?"

Harry shook his head.

"No," he said, "there is a fine line between Professor Severus Snape and Severus Snape. They have the same name but are by no means the same person. He's certainly still as sarcastic as ever but I think three years with me and Hermione woke up something in him."

"What?" asked Mischa.

"His soul. Or at least a part of it. You'll get to meet him someday."

"Does these mean we're…" Mischa looked at him curiously and flicked her fingers absently. A small smile flickered across Harry's face and he leaned towards her.

"Only if you want."

Mischa smiled and said softly, "I do."

"There you are then," said Harry. He picked up an empty mug at his feet – which had once held hot chocolate – then reached for the mug Mischa still clasped in her hands. She turned it over and smiled as he took them over to the small sink in the corner of the room. When he returned, he sat on the couch instead of the chair he'd occupied for the past two hours.

Mischa looked at him for a moment then rose and moved to sit beside him. Harry shifted slightly beside her, a sudden memory of himself and Ginny sitting just like that on the couch in Gryffindor Tower springing to mind. He closed his eyes tight and pulled Mischa close, pressing his face into her dark hair, breathing in her scent. She smelt of lilies and wood smoke – a potent scent that he breathed in deeply to rid himself of the memory.

The woman in his arms found the sudden, fierce embrace disturbing. But she relaxed against him, sensing some turmoil within him. She didn't know what it was exactly but it didn't take much for her to figure out that it had to have something to do with Ginny Weasley.

Leaning back against him, Mischa closed her eyes as Medusa leapt up into her lap. The tiny cat rumbled a purr before curling up in the woman's lap, tucking her long tail about her nose. Harry smiled at the cat over Mischa's head and felt a swell of pride for the tiny creature. She tolerated many, his Medusa, but very few did she truly accept. Her show of curling up in Mischa's lap was her informing her master of her acceptance of the woman.

Oh, how he loved that damn cat.

* * *

"Uncle Harry?"

"Uhn…" grumbled Harry, lifting his head to cast a glare at the closed and heavily warded door. His neck protested the motion and he groaned, causing the slumbering woman in his arms to shift. Mischa turned slightly and buried her face in his neck, one arm sliding around his waist.

"Uncle Harry?" came the voice from the other side of the door again.

"Coming, Tris," called Harry, turning his head from side to side. His neck cracked rather loudly, which caused him to wince and Mischa to peer up at him with bleary eyes.

"W'as goin' on?" she mumbled.

"Tristen," replied Harry. "I don't think my godson should see two of his professors together."

"I'm not a professor yet," said Mischa in a stage whisper as she fully awoke. She knew very well how voices sometimes carried in castles and Harry silently applauded her.

"You still teach. Now, to the bedroom with you, woman."

Mischa grinned and got up, stretching. She then bowed as she backed towards his bedroom, taking on a Hokey accent as she said, "Yes, master. Mischa obey, master."

Harry rolled his eyes at her and waved his hand at her in a shooing motion. Mischa grinned and vanished behind the curtain, Medusa trailing behind her. When the curtain stopped swinging, Harry rose and walked to the door.

"Yes?" he said, looking down at his godson as he opened the door. "And what would you be doing at my door, young man?"

Tristen didn't respond to the slightly joking tone he'd been using. That sent Harry's inner alarm off immediately.

"Tris?" he asked, concern in his voice now, all joking gone. "Is something wrong?"

"Mum and Dad are here," said the eleven-year-old softly.

"_What?_ Why?"

"Mum's been hurt. Dad…Dad said he didn't trust anyone else to take care of her." The eleven-year-old turned wide dark eyes on his godfather and continued, "They kicked me out."

Harry felt a swoop of fear go through him before it settled in his gut. Madam Pomfrey had allowed Severus to stay but had kicked Tristen out of the hospital wing? That sent even more alarm bells off in his head.

And he was beginning to hate his inner alarms.

"Come in here," he finally said, moving back from the door. Tristen scooted inside and Harry closed the door behind him. It gave a rather final sounding click, which sent a shiver through both man and boy.

Mischa suddenly appeared, causing Tristen's eyes to widen. He looked from his godfather to the journeywoman then back again.

"Uncle…"

"Not now, Tris," said Harry. He then looked at Mischa and said, "Tristen's parents are here. His mother was injured somehow and we are going to the hospital wing."

"I'll get my things and slip out," said Mischa. "No trouble."

Harry smiled gratefully at her then took Tristen by the shoulders and steered him out of the set of rooms. Medusa slipped out into the hallway just before the door closed and padded after her master, growing to the size of a large dog as they walked. Her huge, almond eyes glowed with an inner light, giving the two wizards something more to see by than torchlight.

Harry glanced at his watch and saw that it was nearly eleven at night. Tristen should had been asleep long ago. But Severus would never have allowed his son to stay asleep as his mother lay inured in the hospital wing.

They traveled in silence until they reached the hospital wing. Medusa stationed herself outside the doors as Harry and Tristen entered. The boy ran hurriedly towards the curtained area at the end of the room whilst his godfather looked at the bed to his right. Severus sat there, his entire right arm swathed in bandages. Another bandage wound about his head, causing his green and black hair to spike wildly. Harry noticed that the dark eyes were glazed and he gingerly sat down beside the other man.

"Sev?" he queried softly.

The bandaged head turned towards him and Severus breathed, "Harry. I…" He trailed off, swallowing hard.

"What happened?" asked Harry. He sensed that he needed to be careful with his questions. The tremors in his friend's voice and the ones that were racing through his body told him that Severus was on the edge. That scared him more than anything.

He'd seen the ex-Death Eater spy in many ways. Bastard, friend, and angry wrath were all included on his list. Quivering in fear was _not_.

And it scared the bejeezus out of him to see him in that state.

"Death Eaters," came the soft reply. "Well prepared. Got caught off guard."

Harry cast a glance towards the curtained area where Tristen had disappeared and said, "Mione?"

Severus closed his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest.

"She was asleep when they came. I was in my office and didn't even know they were there till I heard her scream. The wards never even went off."

Harry's eyes widened, his pupils shrinking to a nearly imperceptible slit.

"Cruciatus?" he breathed.

Severus nodded slowly and looked up at him. He softly said, "Six at once. Four different times."

"Merlin's beard," swore Harry. "Sev…that's worse than what the Lestranges did to the Longbottom's. Oh Herm…"

"I know what'll happen," said Severus. "She'll be put in the ward at St. Mungo's and Tristen will never be able to have a conversation with his mother again. I've seen the Longbottom's, Harry. I've seen everyone in that ward. I've been trying to figure out a way to keep that curse from driving people crazy for years."

"Sev," said Harry, sensing his friends thoughts, "don't start blaming yourself."

"I won't blame you," hissed Severus, staring hard at him.

"No. But don't blame yourself either. We've both already been down that road before."

"I know."

"And you can't fall apart, no matter what." Harry nodded towards Tristen, who was emerging from behind the curtains. "You've got him to worry about."

Severus looked at his son for a moment before he turned his dark gaze back on his friend.

"I can't lose her, Harry."

Harry placed a comforting hand on Severus' shoulder and nodded slowly.

"I know, Sev. I know…" Harry jerked suddenly and hissed, "What about Liana?"

The other man's shoulders shook and Harry's heart sank. Rage filled him at the thought of Liana, the newest addition to the Snape family, to have been killed by the monsters that had tortured her mother. His eyes burned black and he snarled, "We'll get them, Sev. I swear we will."

**A/N:** For those who don't know, bejeezus could be a synonym for several words. Its generally used in the phrase "Scared the bejeezus out of me" and can be interchanged with Hell, shit, or any other word that would fit the situation. As its not in the dictionary and I don't believe I've ever heard a Northerner say it, I'm going to presume that it's a Southern word. Don't we Southron folk have an odd language?


	11. Shines Into the Darkest

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 11 – Shines Into the Darkest**

Sunday morning was a dark, gloomy day. It was as though the weather had begun to reflect the moods of the three wizards who had been on a vigil in the hospital wing since the night before.

Harry was the only one of the three currently awake. He had finally fallen asleep after sprawling across the bed next to the one Severus had taken up occupancy of.

As he sat up and rolled over onto his back, he glanced over at his friend and smiled. Severus was lying propped up on three pillows, his head tilted slightly to the right. Tristen had curled up against his father's side, head pillowed on the narrow chest. Harry watched at Tristen's head bobbed up and down with Severus' every breath and smiled at the sight of the strong arms that enveloped the eleven-year-old.

Hopping off the bed, he straightened his rumpled shirt and jeans with a muttered charm then ran a hand through his wild hair. Another charm summoned a thin strip of leather from his rooms and he tied his long hair back in a loose tail.

It was only then that he turned towards the curtained off area. He stared at it for a long time before his feet began to slowly drag him towards it. By the time he reached it, his hands were shaking.

Slowly, he reached up and pushed the curtain aside, looking through it at his friend. The only one left of the original Gryffindor Trio besides himself.

Hermione's beautiful face was covered in dark bruises, which Harry had learned was a side-effect of a Cruciatus overdose. Underneath them, she was pale – paler than Severus' natural paleness, even. Her skin was chalk white and – to Harry's horror – he noticed that her luminous cloud of bushy brown hair now had streaks of stark white. They stood out horribly against the brown that remained and he felt sick with the sight.

His friend was lying there, possibly never to be herself again, and he could do nothing about it. None of them could.

They could only pray and hope.

It made Harry feel like he had after Ginny had died. Though to not quite the same degree.

A sudden sound behind him caused Harry to drop the curtain and whirl about. Fire swirled about the pads of his fingertips but he then saw Tristen's dark head lifting and relaxed. He took a deep breath and attempted to loosen the suddenly taut bones of his spine.

"Morning," he said softly, catching his godson's attention.

"Mornin'," mumbled Tristen with a yawn. He then carefully extracted himself from his father's arms, settling the man's arms in his lap and pulling the slightly rumpled sheet up to cover him. When he looked back at his godfather, there was a small smile on the man's face. "What?"

"You just reminded me a little of Mione. She used to do that whenever he fell asleep on the couch in the common room during seventh year."

Tristen smiled sadly and looked at the curtained off area. Harry gave a shiver and said in a slightly too loud voice, "What do you say we get some breakfast?"

"It's not even seven," Tristen pointed out.

"Hence the reason I intended to head down to the kitchens and asked Dobby if he could scrounge the three of us up something." Harry frowned and nodded at the boy's rumpled attire. "We'll need to fix those clothes though…"

"I can't change…"

"No need," said Harry, waving a hand at the bed beside him. There was a sparkle of diamond-like motes and then a pair of blue jeans and a long-sleeved shirt appeared. Tristen stared at them for a moment, not used to his godfather using his magic in such a fashion.

"Uncle…"

"What?"

"Didn't you say you didn't use wandless magic unless it was an emergency?"

Harry waved a hand absently and said, "I've been using it more often than not as of late. Now get dressed. If we nip down to the kitchens quickly, we might manage to get back before that father of yours wakes up."

"Okay," said Tristen, jerking the curtain around the bed the clothes were lying on closed. Harry heard the rustling of cloth and heaved a sigh. His gaze wandered back towards the curtains that hid Hermione's still body. Quickly, he turned away and found himself looking down at a changed Tristen.

The boy's dark hair was spiking wildly and Harry smoothed it down with a muttered charm.

"Ready?"

"Yes," came the reply and Harry steered the boy out of the wing.

* * *

"Does Harry Potter need anything else?"

"No, Dobby," said Harry, grinning down at the house-elf. He chuckled as Tristen gaped widely at the two plates the elves had filled with food. "This will be quite enough."

Dobby bobbed happily then he gave Tristen a sobered glance that Harry had never seen from the elf.

"We all is hoping that Miss will get well," whispered the elf, his huge green eyes goggling up at Harry.

The Heir of Slytherin smiled tiredly and said, "Thank you, Dobby."

"Anything for you, Harry Potter, sir."

Dobby bobbed once more before he turned and continued helping the other house-elves to fix the breakfast for the rest of the school. Harry sent the two plates (and the accompanying goblets and pitcher of orange juice) off to the hospital wing with a wave of his hand. They winked out of existence, causing Tristen to blink for a moment before he realized what had happened.

Harry then laid a hand on his godson's shoulder and they too disappeared. When they reappeared in the hospital wing, Tristen gasped, "_There's no Apparating in Hogwarts!_"

The older wizard chuckled and said, "Its not really Apparating. Just a trick I picked up from Sal. Or should I say, I picked up the basics from Sal. Took me three years to perfect it."

"Can I learn?"

"When your older."

Tristen scowled and started to sulk then thought better of it when Harry gave him a reproachful look.

"What do you call it?" he asked instead.

Harry looked thoughtful as he filled two of the goblets with orange juice.

"Well," he began, "Sal always referred to it as Place Changemogrification. Don't ask why, he just did. I've taken to call it Blinking."

"Why?" asked Tristen around a cream-filled pastry.

"Don't talk with your mouth full. And because, once you get it right and practice enough, you only need to focus on a certain place – or person, thing, etc. – and put a little effort into it before you just blink your eyes and – _bam!_ you're there."

"Wicked," breathed Tristen. "Is effort magic?"

Harry grinned broadly and nodded.

"Good boy! It is indeed. And I'm not going to explain anymore to you. I don't think the Ministry would be very happy to have an eleven-year-old popping up randomly all over the country. _I_ wouldn't want an eleven-year-old popping up randomly about the country. Especially not one whose…"

"…your godson," finished Tristen before taking a large bite of another pastry. "Yeh, Ah know."

"Watch your tongue, imp," croaked Severus suddenly as he limped over. Harry's eyes narrowed as he noticed the limp and thoughts of revenge swirled about his head.

"And stop scowling, Harry," added the bandaged man as he dropped into a chair. "You look like me."

"Is that a bad thing?" asked Harry, handing his friend one of the chocolate-filled pastries.

"Thank you. And that depends on who your scowling at." Severus took a bite of the pastry and let out a low moan. "Oh, gods, I forgot what Hogwarts food tasted like."

"The house-elves have been getting cooking lessons from Sal."

"Your joking."

"Not in the slightest. He told me so when I last visited him."

"Is he still crazy?"

"Sev, he's a statue and he's all alone in a huge chamber with no company except for me and the occasional house-elf. Of course he's crazy."

"Who are you two talking about?" asked Tristen, not understanding one bit of the conversation.

Harry sighed and explained, "Sal is short for Salazar Slytherin, my ancestor. There is a statue of him in the Chamber of Secrets, which we discovered can talk. Well…the statue, not the Chamber."

"And from which we discovered you were the Heir of Slytherin," added Severus.

"Right."

"So, how's your new relationship?"

Harry nearly spat out the piece of blueberry muffin in his mouth and choked instead. He slammed his fist against his spine for a few moments before he coughed and peered through teary eyes at his friend.

"What was that?" he gasped.

Severus gave him a lidded look and repeated, "Your relationship. I hear tell you have a new one."

Harry scowled and fixed Tristen with a glare.

"Tristen Amadeus Oberon Snape…"

"I didn't mean to tell!" whined Tristen. "Honestly!"

Harry growled and ran a hand over his face. He then looked at Severus, who was grinning slightly at him.

"You find this amusing, don't you?"

"Yes. I'm also happy for you." The dark eyes flicked towards the curtained off area and the light in them dimmed. "You have someone again. That's good."

Harry leaned over slightly and caught his friend's gaze. He held it steadily, trying not to give the curtains a sad glance as well.

"We're going to get her back, Sev."

"You don't know that," said the other wizard softly.

"Mischa will find something," said Harry determinedly. "She's the best I've ever seen at Charms."

Severus arched an eyebrow and Tristen mumbled, "Miss Tatchya."

"Ah."

"Humphf," snorted Harry, glaring mildly at his godson. He then ate his muffin in silence, the other man and young boy eating their pastries in the self-same silence.

Outside, it began to rain.


	12. Away From the Sun

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 12 – Away From the Sun**

"Mischa…"

The dark-haired woman yelped and whirled around, whipping her wand out. A firm hand caught her wrist whilst another settled itself about her waist and jerked her close to a tall, strong body.

Harry smiled slightly down at her and said, "Why, my dear Miss Tatchya…pulling your wand on me already? And here I thought we were friends."

Mischa glared at him and jerked her arm away, pocketing her wand with a furious motion.

"Sneaking up on a body!" she exclaimed. "How dare you!"

"I'm Harry Potter. I dare many things."

Mischa snorted and glared at him before she sighed and said, "I'm sorry. The professor has me looking for a certain charm and I can't find it anywhere!"

Harry gave her a sideways look and said, "Have you checked the Restricted Section?"

When Mischa's mouth fell open, he chuckled.

"I'll take that as a 'no' then…"

"I'm such an arse," grumbled Mischa, shaking her head.

"No," said Harry. He leaned to the right slightly and gave her backside a quick glance before straightening and meeting her eyes again. "But you do have a very nice one."

"Cad," admonished Mischa.

"I wouldn't dare insult you," said Harry. His smile then faltered and he continued, "Would you mind helping me with something?"

Mischa shook her head and replied, "Of course not. What is it?"

"Tristen's mother."

"Your friend…Hermione, was it?"

Harry nodded solemnly.

"Death Eater's attacked her and Severus last night."

"_Death Eater's?_" exclaimed Mischa, careful to control her voice level. "But that's impossible!"

"Not quite," said Harry in a slightly dark tone. "A few of them did escape from the battle." His eyes swirled with black as he said this. Mischa thought it looked like a storm cloud gathering.

"What happened?"

"Cruciatus. Six at one time."

"Oh Heaven's chorus," breathed Mischa, saying an exclamation that Harry had never heard. She looked up at him and asked, "Is she alright?"

"She's in a coma," replied Harry. He moved away from her and sat down on the edge of her desk, careful to avoid a piece of paper that seemed to still have ink drying on it.

"And she's here?"

"Sev doesn't trust anyone else. Plus Madam Pomfrey handled him well enough when he came back from Death Eater meetings with that Curse's effects still upon him."

"I see." Mischa frowned and began to pace, her arms wrapped about her waist. Harry's eyes followed her as she walked seven steps forward, turned, and walked seven back before repeating the motion. To his eyes, it was the walk of someone who had been caged at some point in their life.

If he'd had the room to pace in his cupboard, he might have. It'd have been a four step pace but it would have been one.

The dark-haired woman paced for a few moments more before she stopped and turned to face him.

"I remember my Charms professor at Durmstrang once telling us that there had once been an ancient spell that could lessen the effects of Cruciatus. Sadly, its been lost to the ravages of time."

"How ancient?" asked Harry.

"Well…the Cruciatus Curse was created in the time of the Hogwarts Founders – just before they opened the school, in fact. He said the spell was first mentioned around the time that the Founder's fought and Salazar Slytherin left the school."

"So one of the Founders could have known it," mused Harry.

"Yes…" Mischa gave him a curious look and asked, "What are you getting at, Harry?"

"Come with me," was all the man replied as he stalked out of the room. Mischa jogged after him, matching his long-legged stride as soon as she caught up.

"Where are we going?" she asked as they headed in the direction of the entrance hall.

Harry looked straight ahead as he answered her.

"You said that one of the Founder could have known the spell…"

"Actually you said that."

"You agreed."

"Alright, alright. But where are we going? We can't ask any of them. All of the portraits in the school were painted when they were young. According to my professors calculations, that spell would not have been created until they were in their later years."

"Exactly," said Harry. He turned sharply at the edge of the staircase and snapped out a word in Parseltongue. Mischa jumped at the sound of the language of the snakes and gaped as an entrance appeared in the side of the staircase.

Harry extended a hand to her and said, "Come on. Before someone sees."

Mischa gave the slimy corridor a nervous glance then looked at Harry's face. Her eyes locked with his and she laid her hand in his own. Harry pulled her into the corridor slowly and began to walk forward. The woman jumped as the door slid shut, leaving them in darkness.

She could hear Harry chuckling.

"Find this funny, do you?" she growled. "If I knew where your face was, I'd slap you."

A pair of emerald lights winked on suddenly and Mischa thought for a moment Harry had summoned them up but then she realized that they weren't lights at all. They were his eyes.

"Nice trick," she remarked as the tunnel around them slowly came into view, its walls cast in an eerie green glow.

"Thanks," said Harry. "Come on. It won't take us long to get down."

"Where exactly are we going?" asked Mischa as she began to follow him down the sloping tunnel.

"To see an old friend."

"Must you be cryptic?"

"Of course."

"Bastard."

* * *

A few minutes later, Mischa was standing on the ledge in the Chamber of Secrets and staring blankly at the statue of Salazar Slytherin. Beside her, Harry was smirking and chuckling at the same time.

"Mischa, meet Salazar Slytherin. Sal, this is Mischa Tatchya."

"A pleasure, my dear," murmured Salazar. "And it is good to see you again, lad."

"You as well, Sal. I wish this trip didn't have a reason though."

"Your trips nowadays generally have a reason. I don't mind. Now…what is going on now in the great world above? Have the owls revolted? Perhaps one of that half-giant's creatures has escaped onto the grounds? Has that Whomping Willow killed someone?"

"No," said Harry. "But Hermione's been injured."

"The Phoenix?"

_Phoenix?_ thought Mischa, looking wildly at the man beside her. He didn't look at her, just nodded in answer to the statue's question.

"Tell, lad, tell! What has happened? Was the Unicorn involved? How I do hate that I am a statue instead of a painting!"

Harry quickly went over what had happened and when he finished, Salazar let loose a low whistle.

"Hell's bells, lad, what have you gotten yourself into now? Six Cruciatus' is not an easy task to get past!"

"We…" began Mischa, stopping suddenly. Harry smiled encouragingly at her and she continued. "We were wondering if you perhaps knew of an ancient charm that was created during your time to counteract the effects of Cruciatus."

"Do you mean the Dolor Miniatus Potion?" asked Salazar. His stone eyebrows knitted as he continued, "If I remember correctly, it was supposed to reduce the effects of the Curse. I never saw it in action but I do remember the ingredients to it."

A smile broke over Mischa's face and she pulled a small leather-bound book from her robes and a Muggle ballpoint pen that she's snitched from Harry's rooms. "Could you tell me?" she asked.

Salazar smiled and replied, "I shall. Firstly, you shall need…"

* * *

Over an hour later, Mischa and Harry stepped back into the entrance hall, their robes covered in slime from the tunnel. Harry dispelled it with a wave of his hand then took the list of ingredients from her hands, looking over it.

"I know a few of the plants we need for this grow in the Forbidden Forest. Sev might know how to get the unicorn blood. And…crushed Thestral hoof?"

"Is there something wrong?" asked Mischa.

"No," replied Harry, looking rather pale. "But I don't think we'll get any of the Forest Thestral's to comply with us asking for some of their hoof. Do you think the hoof of a Thestral Animagus would work?"

Mischa blinked.

"Who's a Thestral Animagus?"

Harry smiled as he silently handed her back the book. There was a whisper of magic and an explosion of emerald green dust motes, after which a pitch-black Thestral stood in the dark-haired wizard's place.

Mischa stared at the huge creature as it tossed a black mane from glowing green eyes, revealing a white lightning bolt scar on its forehead. She slowly reached out and gently touched a white, star-shaped scar on its muscled chest. The Thestral twitched and gently butted her with its draconic head, its wings rustling softly.

"Sweet Merlin," she breathed as she stared at the Thestral. "You _are_ beautiful."

The Thestral bobbed its head in what could be taken for a 'thank-you.' A moment later into another flurry of emerald motes, Harry stood in its place. Mischa's hand was still on his chest, her fingers brushing against the Muggle shirt he wore underneath his robes. If she moved it up, she would be able to see the scar that had very nearly killed him thirteen years before…

Harry grasped her wrist suddenly, pushing her hand away. Their eyes met and Mischa was shocked to see that the serpentine orbs were flooded black.

"We need to get that to Severus," he said softly. "He'll know where to find most of the ingredients."

Mischa nodded slowly then watched numbly as Harry turned and walked off in the direction of the hospital wing at a fast pace. She stood there for a long moment, the little journal held in a limp hand.

She obviously still had much to learn about this man she had fallen in love with.


	13. I'm Over This

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 13 – I'm Over This**

Severus frowned at his friend and his…well, lover, for lack of a better term…and exclaimed, "You found the _what?_"

"Dolor Miniatus Potion," replied Harry. "Mischa had heard of a _charm_ that would get rid of the effects of Cruciatus from her Charms Master and we went to Sal about it as it was a charm supposedly created during his time. Turns out that it's a _potion_, not a charm."

Severus frowned and glanced at the curtained off area of the wing before he turned his eyes on his friend. Harry noted that they had begun to spark with hope but also with the realization that this might not work.

"Do you have the ingredients? How long does it take to brew?"

"Yes," replied Mischa. "And two months according to the statue."

"Salazar," corrected Harry, earning a slight glare from the woman.

"I am not going to call a Hogwarts Founder by his first name, even if he _is_ a statue!"

"Alright," said Harry, his eyes swirling a light green for a moment. He then looked at Severus, who was thumbing through Mischa's little notebook. Black eyes locked with green suddenly, their depths flickering with wry amusement.

"Powered Thestral hooves? A dragon's fang? Sliver of horn from a unicorn and some blood? My dear old friend, I do believe those will be the easiest things on this list to find."

Mischa frowned and said, "I know _he's_ a Thestral (she motioned towards Harry here) but how to you expect to get those other things?"

Severus just smiled and replied, "Harry, Hermione, and I, along with my nephew, all became Animagus' in our seventh year. Harry is a Thestral, I am a unicorn, Mione is a Phoenix, and my nephew, Draco, is a dragon."

Mischa blinked a few times before she turned towards Harry and said, "You have had the most extraordinary life that I have ever heard of."

"I doubt he's told you every little nuisance," remarked Severus with a wry smile. He then looked at the curtained off area again and sobered. "Would your new Potions Master be annoyed if we took over a cauldron?"

"Potions _Mistress_," corrected Harry. "And, no, I don't think she'd mind at all. I'll go ask. You two figure out where we can find at least some of those ingredients." With that he rose and left, leaving the two of them sitting on either of one of the bed's.

Severus looked at Mischa, who was staring after Harry.

"I suggest you learn now that he has many sides," he said, bringing her attention back to him. She stared with cornflower colored eyes that reminded him of Dumbledore's. Without that annoying twinkle.

"How many?"

"More than most people." He fixed her with a cold gaze and continued, "And I warn you now that if you hurt him, I will kill you with my own hands."

Mischa found herself believing him. Not because Harry had told her that he had once been a Death Eater, but because of the look in his eyes. It was the look of someone who would kill for those they loved.

She realized in that moment that Harry and Severus were very much alike.

"I'd never hurt him," she said softly, wanting to get that look out of his eyes. More especially off of her.

Severus frowned and said darkly, "I'll have to take you at your word. I do not know you and I do not trust people easily."

"Don't you have to trust someone to work with them?"

"No. I did much work with Lucius Malfoy and I _never_ trusted him, even when I was a foolish first year and he a fourth year. Harry trusts you, I can see that. I think he might just love you." He paused before continuing, "But always remember that you have not yet earned my trust, Miss Tatchya."

"I will," swore Mischa, her voice shaking.

"Good. Now, then…can you tell me where we might find a large quantity of monkshood?"

* * *

"Maesha?"

Harry poked his head into the Potions classroom and heard a single shriek before he was hit on the forehead with a silver spoon. He frowned down at the object then looked across the room at a middle-aged woman.

"Thanks. I missed my appointment to be hit on the head with a spoon this morning."

Maesha O'Brien scowled at him and snapped, "If you think you're going to take that tone with me, youngin', you've got another thing coming!"

Harry chuckled softly as the witch's American accent came through her slight Irish lilt. Maesha had been born in America – in the state of Alabama, to be exact – and had married an Irish wizard when she was twenty-two. Now she was fifty-four and a widow. Her husband had been one of the few Aurors killed in the battle thirteen years before – only five had arrived before the battle ended and three of them died. Harry had met her the morning after the battle as she had been set to watch over him – or more specifically, his wounds to make sure they didn't become infected. It had turned out that Aubrey's sword had been laced with poison and he'd have died if not for the quick work of Madam Pomfrey and Maesha.

She had continued to watch over him during his weeks of recovery. Harry told her about Ginny's death and she about her husbands. They had gotten through the main dredges of loss together and had come out on the other side as good friends.

It was Harry himself who had suggested her for the Potions position.

"I'm thirty, Maesha, not seventeen. And why are you throwing spoons?"

"Still younger than me," replied the older woman. "And because of that old man! That Tarven! Thinks I need a man in my life. One of these days, he's going to be hangin' high 'n' dry from messing with me!" She took a deep breath then asked, "Did'ja want something?"

Harry smiled before replying. He was thinking of Jacob Tarven, the Muggle Studies teacher. The wizard was five years older than Maesha and had taken a liking to her since he'd been added to the staff two years before. Harry had heard many tales from Maesha about his ways of 'subtly' following her.

"Yes. Could we take over a cauldron in your lab?"

"Who's this 'we?'"

"Myself, Mischa, and Severus."

Maesha's eyes lit up and she breathed, "Severus Snape? The youngest ever to hold the rank of Potion's Master?"

Harry grinned, knowing he had the woman hook, line, and sinker. If there was anything she loved more than her husband Conard, it was potions.

"That'd be him. So, can we?"

"For a look at the sixth most skilled Potions Master in the wizarding world at work, lad, you can have my whole bloody lab! What sort of ingredients do you need?"

"Sev has the list," replied Harry. "We know how to get at least four of them if Animagus forms will work."

The witch nodded and said, "Of course they will. During the Animagus transformation, the wizard or witch turns into that very animal. Their minds are still human but they are very much animals. What sort of animals are you talking about?"

"A Thestral, unicorn, and a dragon." Harry silently thanked whatever gods were listening that anything involving a phoenix wasn't required in the potion. If there had been, they'd have been royally screwed as Fawkes had gone with Dumbledore wherever the old wizard had gone when he'd left McGonagall in charge.

"I see. And who are your Animagus donors?"

Harry replied, "Me, Sev, and Draco Malfoy."

"That should work," said Maesha. "You can begin at anytime you want. I left everything where it was in the lab from before. I would assume that Severus organized it."

"I'd guess. Professor Sturgis never even went in the lab, so I'd assume that too."

"Sturgis is a right old fool," grumbled Maesha. "I can't believe that Dumbledore hired him after having such a Potions Master as Severus Snape."

"He didn't have anyone else, I suppose," said Harry with a shrug. He gave a little shake and continued, "I'll go tell Sev and Mischa the news now. Whenever we decide to start working, I'll send word through Dobby."

"Very well. I hope that the lady Snape will be alright."

Harry smiled tightly at those words and muttered, "You and I both, Maesha. You and I both…"

* * *

When Harry entered the hospital wing a few minutes later, he found Tristen sitting on a bed with a large map laid out in front of him. Severus was sitting on the same bed as before, his arm no longer bandaged but his head still bearing one. He was frantically scribbling something down on a stack of parchment with a Muggle pen as Mischa – who was perched on the end of the bed – called out the names of the ingredients from her list and how they needed to be added to the potion.

Tristen was the first to notice Harry's entrance and he chirped, "Uncle Harry!"

"Scamp," said Harry good naturedly. He then looked at Severus and added, "Maesha will let us use the lab. On one condition."

"Dare I ask?" asked Severus, arching an elegant eyebrow.

"She gets to see the 'famous' Severus Snape at work."

Severus groaned and said, "I _knew_ that being one of the six most skilled Potion Masters in the world would catch up with me someday."

Mischa just smiled at that and continued to read off the list. Severus stopped her with a raised finger and scribbled down something before he motioned her to continue.

Harry watched them for a moment before he wandered over to Tristen, peering over the elven-year-old's shoulder at the map. There were elegant scrawls all over the slightly battered map and Harry recognized part of them as Severus' hand. The others were in Hermione's neat script.

"What are you looking for?" he asked.

Tristen looked up at him and replied, "Monkshood. Dad said Mum found a place where there was a large amount of it but he doesn't remember where. I'm trying to find it."

"Need a hand?"

"Please."

Harry smiled and settled himself on the edge of the bed, tugging the map gently towards him. He looked at the first of Hermione's neat script that caught his eye and pointed at it.

"Tell you what. Let's start with this one and work our way out. Whenever we find one that won't work, we'll put an 'x' over it with our wands. Sound good?"

Tristen grinned up at his godfather and Harry took that as his answer.

"Good. Let's get to work."

**A/N: **If anyone's wondering, not everything's going to be this easy… Difficulties shall soon arise.


	14. Tired of Living

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 14 – Tired of Living**

Nearly two months passed and the Dolor Miniatus potion was very nearly ready. Severus and Harry had had a slight difficulty getting Draco to donate a fang from his Animagus form and only got it because his wife Nadia ordered him to. When Draco had revealed to them the whole story, Severus had laughed and told him to _never_ argue with a pregnant woman.

Now Harry, Mischa, and Severus were sitting in the Great Hall during lunch, quietly talking over where they could find the last two ingredients they needed for the potion. Mischa had a smaller version of Severus' map splayed across her knees, which had forced both men to lean in close to her.

"I remember finding a few Runespoor nests in this area in '81," said Severus, pointing out a spot on the map. A small red rectangle lit up around his finger and the section zoomed into view. He then brushed his fingertips over a section of rock that was marked in brown.

"They were right along the base of these rocks," he continued. "Hopefully they still nest there so we can get an egg."

"We'll hope," said Mischa. "I suppose we could go there tonight after classes. What about that feather?"

"A more difficult puzzle," said Severus. "The Altair birds were very nearly wiped out by Grindelwald. No one has seen a one since then."

"Damnit," cursed Harry. "If its not one evil, its another. Are we cursed or something?"

Severus was about to say something but was interrupted by a scream – a very _human_ scream. Nine heads at the Head Table whipped up at the sound, McGonagall rose to her feet as several of the students screamed, drawing her wand. Severus and Harry watched in partial horror as the black raven circled the Hall once then swooped down to land neatly in front of Harry.

Intelligent golden eyes gleamed as a voice came from the bird's throat.

"Greetings," croaked the bird, bobbing its head. "Greetings, Heir of Slytherin. I bear a message from my Lord."

Harry arched an eyebrow, glancing out of the corner of his eye at Severus. The green/black-haired man was scowling darkly at the bird. He was obviously remembering the owl that had delivered the letter from Voldemort in their fifth year.

"And your," Harry paused over the word, "_Lord_ would be whom exactly?"

"My Lord Aubrey, Slytherin's Heir. He sends his regards."

Harry was suddenly on his feet, his eyes swirling darkly with black.

"Aubrey is _dead_," he snarled.

"One such as my Lord shall not die so easily, Slytherin's Heir."

Harry's lips drew back in a near perfect imitation of one of Professor Snape's sneers. Severus might have been proud of that if he'd seen it. He, however, was fixing the raven with a glare that he had once only reserved for Voldemort.

"Tell your _Lord_," sneered Harry, "that if he wishes to continue the fight we started _and finished_ thirteen years ago, he can come ahead. This time I'll make damn sure he _stays_ dead."

"I will give him your message, Heir of Slytherin." The raven bobbed its head lightly then spread its wings in what could be taken as a bow. "If that is all, I shall take my leave of you."

"You do that," growled Harry, eyes completely black now.

The raven looked at him and for the first time since its arrival, there was fear in its intelligent eyes. Mischa could see it and could sympathize with it. She could feel small waves of power coming off of the man standing beside her – waves that were slowly pushing her chair backwards from their force.

"Farewell," said the raven, obviously trying to stave off its fear. It then screamed in its human voice and took flight, dark feathers floating back down through the air. Only when it was gone did the students dare speak again.

Harry angrily snatched one of the feathers from the air then turned and exited through one of the doors behind the Head Table. Mischa and Severus hurriedly followed him, McGonagall not far behind them. They found him standing in the center of the room, hands at his sides.

He was shaking with barely contained fury.

"Harry?" said Mischa softly, reaching out to touch his arm.

"Don't," hissed Harry. He turned slowly to look at her, his eyes now gray-green and filled with pain. "Keep away from me, Mischa."

"But…Harry…"

Harry grabbed her suddenly by the shoulders and bellowed, "_I will not allow another woman I love to die!_" He then turned away from her, grabbing Severus' hand and slapping the feather into it.

"We'll try for the Runespoor's tonight. Quickly."

"When?" asked Mischa.

"You're not going," said Harry.

"_What?_ Harry…"

"Aubrey is after me, Mischa! If he finds out about you…he'll kill you." Harry turned his face away from the three of them and whispered, "Just like he did Gin."

McGonagall, a sad look on her face, reached out to touch his shoulder. He flinched away but she held on, pulling him gently towards her. Slowly, he complied and allowed her to turn him about so he was facing her.

"You must stop doing this to yourself," she said gently. "You did not cause her death."

Harry slowly lifted his eyes to look into hers.

"If I hadn't been on that field, she'd never have come down."

"And if Aubrey hadn't have killed her, you might be dead instead," said Severus, stepping forward. When Harry fixed him with a furious glare, he lifted a hand.

"Hear me out, Harry," he continued. "And answer this question: if she hadn't have died, would you have had the will to kill Aubrey?"

Harry just looked at him for a long moment, no emotion on his face or in his eyes. Then something flickered in the green depths and Harry softly replied, "No. No, I wouldn't have."

With that he broke away from the Headmistress and without looking at either Severus or Mischa, left the room. The dark-haired woman moved to follow him but was stopped by Severus' hand coming down on her arm.

"Don't," he said softly as she turned angry eyes towards him. "If you wish to help him, leave him alone. At least for a little while."

"_I_ _love him_."

"I know."

"Give him time, my dear," said McGonagall. "Now, if you'll excuse me…" She left the room, leaving the two of them alone.

Mischa looked at the door Harry had left through (which was a different one than McGonagall had) then sighed and said, "I suppose we should go find those Runespoor's."

"Harry didn't…"

"I will _not_ abandon him," spat Mischa. "Not for you, not for McGonagall, not for Aubrey. Is that clear?"

"As glass," replied Severus. "I admire your courage, but do remember that Aubrey is a killer. And that if you die, Harry will most certainly not survive." With that he turned and walked back through the door into the Great Hall.

Mischa stood there for a moment before she turned and followed him.

"What do you mean?" she asked softly as the students stared at them.

"I meant what I said," replied Severus in an equally soft voice. "If you were to die, Harry would not survive. He would either wither away in grief or commit suicide."

"He'd never!"

"He would," said Severus. "And I do not wish to see that happen. You are to keep yourself away from anything that happens. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," spat Mischa as the exited the Hall and crossed the entrance hall. As they started down the outside stars, she added, "I intend to keep both of us safe."

Severus halted suddenly and turned to stare up at her. His dark eyes flicked from her face to where her hands rested on her stomach before they flicked back up.

"Are you implying what I think you are implying?"

Mischa arched an eyebrow and tilted her head slightly to the side.

"What do you think I'm implying?"

Severus took two long steps and was standing beside her, towering over her. He was shaking with barely suppressed fury as he snarled, "This is no time for _games_, woman. My wife is lying comatose in the hospital wing, my three-month old daughter is _dead_, and my son is afraid he may very well lose his mother. Not only that, but the creature that stole a good friend of mine and my best friend's first love has not only returned but has already decided to come after us again. And _finally_…you proclaim to be carrying Harry's child! The time for fun and games is long over!"

"I'm sorry," said Mischa.

"As you should be," snapped Severus. He then gave her a sideways look and asked, "How long have you known?"

"A few weeks."

"I assume you haven't told Harry."

Mischa shook her head and replied, "I was going to today but after that raven…"

Severus nodded slightly before asking, "How far along are you?"

"A month and a half."

"Of course. You have some time before you begin to show."

"Time to what?" asked Mischa as Severus turned and began to descend the stairs again.

The green/black-haired man looked at her over his shoulder and replied, "Time to do what must be done. I tell you now that your safety is even more of the essence than before. If Aubrey were to find out that you carry Harry's child, he will surely try and capture you."

"Then why am I leaving the grounds with you?" asked Mischa, one hand placed protectively over her belly.

"Because Aubrey does _not_ know. And we shall hope he never will. Now come. We shall collect the Runespoor eggs and return to finish the potion."

Mischa nodded and the two of them continued across the grounds, Severus drawing a Portkey from one of his pockets. As soon as they crossed the wards, they both grabbed the Portkey, which activated instantly.

Then they were gone.

* * *

Three hours later, Severus administered the completed Dolor Miniatus potion to Hermione. There was no immediate change and he had camped out on a cot next to his wife's bed, regularly checking for any improvement. Tristen had been excused from all his classes until his mother awoke and was currently curled up on a cot next to his father's, asleep.

Harry wandered in after curfew and found Severus leaning over Hermione, his face only centimeters away from hers. He waited until his friend turned towards him before he said anything.

"Any improvement?"

Severus smiled slightly and replied, "She's not as pale anymore. That's an improvement."

"A little of one," said Harry with a smile. He then looked at Tristen and added softly, "What am I going to do, Sev?"

"About Aubrey?"

"About everything."

"You mean Mischa," said Severus.

Harry just nodded and Severus considered telling him. But he couldn't. That was for Mischa to tell. He just hoped she did it soon.

"I see. You're afraid for her safety."

"I don't want her to die too, Sev. I…"

"You love her."

Harry nodded and replied, "Not as much as I loved Gin. Not yet anyway. But…yeah, I love her." He looked up at the other man and asked, "Is that wrong?"

Severus slowly shook his head and said, "No, Harry, its not. I know you miss her very much – we all do. But you can't live without love your entire life." He threw a loving glance in the direction of his sleeping wife and added, "And I must tell you, the best thing in the world is someone to share your nights with. You deserve that, my friend."

"But with Aubrey around I can't have it. She's in danger if she's with me, Sev."

"So are we all."

_Especially your child_, thought Severus to himself.

Harry looked at him for a moment before he sagged against a bed.

"Do you think she'd agree to leave? At least until Aubrey's gone again?"

"No," said Severus, earning a small smile from the Heir of Slytherin.

"I thought you'd say that. She's like Gin in that respect." Harry lifted his head to smile sadly at his friend. "She won't abandon me."

"Not many of us will," said Severus.

"Ron did."

"Ron chose the wrong side."

"Because of me."

Severus sighed.

"Will you _ever_ stop playing the martyr? Harry, not everything in this world is your fault."

"Ron was. Ginny was."

"Ron _chose_ to go to Voldemort. Ginny _chose_ to go out on that field. Perhaps if Ron hadn't gone to Voldemort, we might never have had that battle. Or perhaps he would have become the next Dark Lord. We don't know. We can't change the past."

"I know."

Silence fell. Wood creaked as Tristen shifted on his cot. A gray tabby cat poked its head out from under his blanket and blinked at the two men.

"Mrow."

Severus gave the cat an amused look then turned back to his friend.

"Don't push her away, Harry."

"If she stays with me, she'll get hurt."

"If you push her away, you'll both get hurt."

_Your child will get hurt_, added Severus silently.

Green eyes met black and Harry sighed.

"I don't want her to die."

"And I don't want you to keep on like you have for the last thirteen years, so we're even. Now get some sleep, man. You look like the living dead."

"You're not much better," quipped Harry. "You'll call me when Mione wakes up, won't you?"

"Of course," replied Severus.

Harry nodded and left. Severus looked after him for a moment before he sat down on his cot. The gray tabby leapt from the foot of Tristen's cot to his shoulder and purred, rubbing her head up against his cheek.

"Hello, Trieste," he said, scratching the tiny creature's chin. "Will you watch Herm for me?"

"Mrow."

"I'll take that as a 'yes,'" said Severus. He picked the cat up and deposited it on the edge of Hermione's bed. As he lay down, the gray tabby began to lick a paw, long tail flicking idly. Severus watched it for a moment before he closed his eyes and let Sleep take him.


	15. Can Anyone See

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 15 – Can Anyone See**

"Sev?"

"Severus?"

"Uhn," said Severus as he sat up. He peered blearily around the room, slightly disoriented.

Then he noticed Hermione was sitting up in bed, Trieste curled up in her lap.

"_Hermione!_" he yelled joyfully, leaping off his cot. He enveloped his wife in a hug and abruptly found himself crying tears of joy into her shoulder.

"It's okay," whispered Hermione, hugging him close. Tears glistened on her own cheeks.

Trieste squirmed out from between the two adults and leapt to her master's cot. She batted at his ear until he opened his eyes and glared at her.

"Este, get off…"

"Mrow!" exclaimed the cat, bouncing up and down on the side of his head.

Tristen brushed the cat off and sat up. His dark eyes widened as he saw his mother and father hugging and he exclaimed, "_Mum!_"

Severus pulled back from Hermione, allowing Tristen to scramble up into his mother's lap. The eleven-year-old was sobbing joyfully and laughing at the same time as he hugged her. Hermione smiled at her husband over their son's shoulder before mouthing 'Where's Harry?'

'I'll go get him' mouthed Severus back. He climbed down off the bed and grabbed his shoes before he practically ran from the hospital wing. Two flights of stairs barely winded him and he managed to bellow as he pounded on Harry's door.

When a disheveled looking Harry wearing only a pair of worn blue jeans, Severus yelled something rather quickly before he ran back down the stairs. It took Harry a few moments to sort out what had been said. When he did, he rushed back into his rooms and came out tugging a shirt over his head. He then ran downstairs barefoot with his hair streaming wildly behind him.

At the hospital wing doors, he paused and stared across the room at Hermione. She was pale and her hair was streaked white but when her brown eyes turned towards him they were full of the same life that they always had been.

"Harry…"

"Mione," he choked out before he rushed across the room and pulled the woman into a rough hug. She clung to him tightly for a moment before pulling back slightly.

"Thank you," she whispered. "Tris told me that you found the potion to bring me back."

"Actually its Mischa and Sal you should be thanking," said Harry. He hugged her again then said, "I'm glad your back. Though this hair…"

"What?" asked Hermione, pulling one of the white locks forward. "You don't think it looks good on me?"

Harry eyed the white-streaked hair for a moment before shaking his head and replying, "No. Perhaps purple instead…"

Hermione laughed and the two old friends smiled at each other before they both began to laugh. Severus and Tristen just watched and smiled.

The bushy-haired woman then looked around and asked, "Where's Liana? Sev, where's our daughter?"

Severus didn't look at her and tears welled up in her eyes. She looked at Harry and whispered, "Harry, what happened to my daughter?"

"They killed her," mumbled Harry. "I'm so sorry, Mione."

Tears welled up in Hermione's eyes and she grabbed Harry's shirt, silently sobbing into it. The Heir of Slytherin gingerly wrapped his arms around her then looked pityingly at Severus and Tristen, who were both shaking their heads.

* * *

"Hermione!" exclaimed McGonagall as Severus entered the Great Hall with his wife on his arm. "You're awake!"

"Hello, Minerva," said Hermione as warmly as possible, shaking her white and brown hair back from her face. "How are you?"

"Shocked!" replied the older witch. She then came around the Head Table and enveloped the woman in a hug. "But relieved to see you back in our world."

"Not as much as I am," murmured Severus.

"Or I," said Harry, who suddenly appeared with Tristen at his heels.

"This is a happy occasion in times that are once again dark," said McGonagall, her smile suddenly turning sad.

Hermione frowned and asked, "What do you mean?"

McGonagall looked sharply at the two men and said sharply, "You didn't tell her?"

Harry shook his head and Severus said, "I didn't want to burden her."

"Burden me with what?" asked Hermione.

McGonagall gave her a sad look before replying.

"Aubrey has returned."

Hermione gasped and looked at Harry, who nodded solemnly.

"Oh God…but that's impossible! Harry killed him!" She looked at her friend and added, "Didn't you?"

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes slowly swirling a gray-green.

"I drove my sword through his neck. It very nearly cut off his head. I killed him, Mione."

He idly touched the spot on his torso where the four of them knew his scar was and continued, "Just like he almost killed me."

"Then how is he back?"

"That, Mione-love," said Severus, "is something we have not figured out. Perhaps he'll let us know. You know those criminal masterminds love to brag."

"Ha," said Hermione without inflection. She then looked hungrily at the abandoned food on McGonagall's plate, causing Severus to chuckle and steer her towards the table.

McGonagall looked after them before she noticed Harry walking off.

"Harry?"

"I'm going to find Mischa," said the dark-haired man. Tristen jogged after his godfather for a moment and asked him something before he turned and headed for the Slytherin table.

The Headmistress frowned after her ex-student before she headed back to her seat.

* * *

Harry whispered the password to Mischa's rooms to the portrait that guarded it and stepped in, looking about the main room for the woman.

"Mischa?"

There was a sound from his left and he ventured towards it. After a moment, he could tell it was coming from the bathroom.

After another, he could tell it was the sound of someone throwing up.

Taking a hasty step back, he waited for Mischa to come out. When she did, she was wiping her mouth on a towel in one hand whilst her other hand rubbed her stomach in slow circles.

She didn't see him for a moment then when she did, she froze. Cornflower blue eyes turned to meet green and Harry saw fear in them.

"Mischa?" he said softly. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

She turned her head away before whispering, "Yes."

"What?"

"I-I…"

Harry arched an eyebrow.

"I'm pregnant."

All of Harry's organs plummeted to his feet. He was sure he felt a few of his bones go too. Which could be the reason he suddenly felt light-headed.

"Could you repeat that?" he gasped after a moment.

"I'm. Pregnant," repeated Mischa slowly.

"_Gods_," breathed Harry. He then turned his eyes towards the ceiling and muttered, "Someone up there hates me, don't they?"

"You're not happy, are you?"

Harry looked at her as though she were mad.

"Happy about this situation? No, I'm not happy about this situation. My _God_, if Aubrey finds out about this…"

"He doesn't have to," said Mischa. "And I meant not happy about…_us_."

Now Harry looked at her as though she'd grown another head. A moment later he had taken a step towards her and pulled her into his arms.

"Never think that," he hissed into her ear. "I am. But…Mischa…"

"I know," she whispered. "You're afraid."

"Yes."

"I'll be fine, Harry. _We'll_ be fine."

"There's no guarantee of that."

"You can't send me away."

Harry shook his head and said, "No."

"I'm safest here."

"Yes."

"Are you really happy?"

"Ecstatic. In that scared sort of way."

"Good."

"You got it too?"

"Uh-huh."

"We're going to need some new arrangements."

"Like what?"

"When I figure it out, I'll tell you."

Mischa smiled slightly and leaned her head against Harry's shoulder.

"Okay. I love you."

She felt Harry's breath hitch and for a moment she thought he was going to pull away from her. But he just hugged her tighter and whispered fiercely, "_I love you._"


	16. Down Here

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 16 – Down Here**  
__

_A month later…_

"So, there's a new Malfoy in the world and there's soon to be a Potter? I'm overjoyed."

"Nadia gave birth?" said Hermione. "When?"

"Two nights ago," replied Draco.

"What's the name?" asked Harry.

Draco smiled slightly as he replied, "Virginia Hermione."

Hermione blushed while Harry just looked shocked. Beside him, Mischa squeezed his hand gently. He turned a slow smile on her then looked at the blonde man sitting across from him.

"A nice sentiment, Draco."

"Thank you. Nad wanted to name her after my mother."

"Let me guess," said Severus, propping one foot up on a small table, "my dear sister refused."

"Yes," replied Draco with a smile. He then said, "Y'know, its still rather disconcerting for you to be my uncle and my age as well."

Severus grinned annoyingly and took a sip from the glass he held loosely in his right hand.

"Yes, it is, isn't it?"

Harry chuckled and said, "Don't deny you enjoy every minute of it, Sev!"

"I deny nothing," purred the green/black-haired man. He then sat up and said, "Now…I think we should get down to what we're here for."

"You do certainly know how to bring a happy mood to a halt, Uncle."

"Comes from being a bastard for nearly fourteen years. Now what are we going to do about this?"

"Wait," said Harry. "Wait for him to make his move."

Draco stared at him for a moment before he said, "You've got to be mad, Potter. What if he goes after me? _My family?_ I have eight children!"

"Bring them here," said Hermione. She looked at her husband then back to the blonde-haired man. "We're staying."

"By will?"

"By order," replied Severus. "Minerva won't allow us to leave. We're in danger again and she's gone all motherly on us."

"What about the other Weasley's?" asked Mischa suddenly. She looked at Harry and said, "You told me this Aubrey used to be your friend Ron…"

"Minerva called the Order of the Phoenix back into being. They're watching the Weasley's."

"We'll hope he didn't come back at full power," murmured Harry.

Mischa frowned.

"How will we know that?"

Hermione, Severus, and Draco all looked at each other then at Harry, whose eyes had dulled to gray-green.

"I'll know when I see him," whispered the dark-haired man. "I'll know when I see the bastard."

* * *

"Can't catch me, Will!"

"Yes, I can, Xander!"

Two small wraiths with blonde hair and gray eyes shot past Mischa in the corridor. She turned to stare after them and was nearly bowled over by a girl of about ten years with platinum blonde hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry!"

"Quite alright," said Mischa, still staring off after the two wraiths. She then looked at the girl, who was staring at her with Draco Malfoy's eyes. "Are…are you one of the Malfoy children?"

"Yes, ma'am. Melinda Lineal."

"Hello, Melinda. I'm Mischa. Were those…"

"My brothers?" said Melinda.

Mischa nodded slowly.

"Yes, ma'am. Will and Alex."

"I see. And shall I be meeting any more of your siblings in my wanderings of the corridors?"

Melinda nodded and replied, "More than likely. Except for Ginny. She's too small to run."

"I see. Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, Melinda."

"Mel," chirped the girl before she ran off after her brothers. Mischa looked after them with a smile on her face then idly touched her belly.

"Will you be like that when you're born?" she asked her growing child.

* * *

Five days later, Harry was sitting in the Great Hall before breakfast had even begun. Tristen and Damian, Draco's eldest son, were further down the table entertaining Rebecca, who had been the youngest of the Malfoy children before Virginia's birth. The Heir of Slytherin was watching Virginia at the moment, taunting the little girl with one of his quills. She giggled and kicked her feet at him, trying to catch the feathery end of the quill in her hands.

Despite the threat of Aubrey, Harry was smiling.

For the moment.

There was a sudden clamor at the doors and he looked up to see Alexander and William, a pair of blonde twins come running in with their two older sisters Melinda and Jessica right behind them. The final member of the Malfoy clan wandered in after them. At age nine, Derrick was tired of playing children's games and wanted to be at Hogwarts. This was a product of him hanging around Hermione far too much.

Harry just smiled as Melinda and Jessica chased the twins around the Hall and wondered how Draco Malfoy had become such a good father with such a bad example. Then his thoughts drifted to his own child and he wondered what sort of father _he_ would be. He'd never had an example to go by except for his uncle, who was more of an example of what _not_ to do than what _to_ do.

The thought scared him.

He was just beginning to relax again when a black owl swooped into the Hall and dropped a letter onto the table in front of him. Virginia giggled and tried to grab it but Harry intercepted her with the quill. She waved it happily as he picked up the letter, which had been rolled up and tied with a black ribbon. Nervously, he untied the ribbon and rolled the letter out on the table. Blood red ink winked up at him and after a moment he realized that is wasn't ink. It was _blood._

A shiver went through him as he began to read the letter that was written in someone's blood.

_Hello old friend,_

_Its been a long time. A very long time. I suppose you are well being as you're at dear, old Hogwarts. Teaching Defense I hear. How…quaint._

_I hear Hermione married the greasy git. Had a son too. You know she deserves much better than him. I'D have been better. Oh, and I hear they had a daughter. Shame the girl died._

_And Malfoy… Ah, dear, dear Malfoy. A loving father I hear. Members of the Dark community are embarrassed. One of the most influential Dark families gone soft. So sad._

_I suppose your wondering how I came back. In fact, I know you are. You're sitting there reading my letter and thinking 'How could he be back? I killed him.' Well, Harry, I've got a surprise for you._

_I can't die._

_Unless, of course, you do as well. See, Voldemort thought it'd be funny to tie my life to yours. Only he didn't tell me this. Sneaky bastard, eh?_

_So, now, I'm going to do what I do best. Kill things. I intend to kill every soul you know, including that little Malfoy brat named after my dear sister._

_Why don't we make it a game? I'll try to kill them and you try to save them like the hero you are. What do you say?_

_Well, its been lovely chatting with you but I really must go. There's a little girl trying to get away._

_Ta,_

_Aubrey_

_P.S. How are my dear, old family?_

Behind Harry, a torch suddenly turned into a fountain of flames as he crumpled the letter in his fist. Damian and Tristen looked up with a start and stared as the fire fell upon the Slytherin table – but didn't burn a thing. William and Alexander ground to a halt before they ran underneath it, Melinda and Jessica nearly plowing into their backs.

Harry rose, suddenly, his face a mask of stony countenance. He crooked a finger at Derrick, who moved towards him, and he growled, "Watch Ginny." Then he turned and strode from the Hall, robes billowing behind him. Anger practically flowed in his wake.

The moment he was gone, the torch stopped flaming. Tristen glanced at Damn then leapt up and ran after his godfather.

"Uncle!"

Harry turned slowly and Tristen took a frightened step back at the anger that burned in the serpentine eyes. That anger nearly made the eleven-year-old turn and run but he gathered up his courage and took a tentative step forward.

"Uncle…what's going on?"

"Aubrey," came the growled reply. "He's attacked one of the Weasley's."

The blood drained from Tristen's face as he thought of each of the separate Weasley families. They were all a part of his family and he thought of them as cousins.

"Come with me," said Harry.

"Where are we going?" asked Tristen as he jogged after his godfather.

"Professor McGonagall's office."

"Oh."

The two of them fell silent as they made their way towards the Headmistress's office. But Harry's mind was whirling past all of the faces of the Weasley's.

_Dear God, let them be alright_, he thought through all of their faces and his anger.

* * *

McGonagall blinked and looked up in surprise as her door was thrown open. Harry stormed in, his eyes swirling darkly, and walked over to the fireplace. At a flick of his fingers, the flames flared pure white and he snapped, "Sev! Mione! Headmistresses office – NOW!"

He turned away from the fire and it snapped back to its normal colors so abruptly that it nearly went out. McGonagall stared at her ex-student for a moment before she spoke.

"Harry, what's going on?"

Harry let out a hiss of breath through his teeth and sat a slightly crumpled sheet of parchment on her desk.

"Read that," he said. "Tris, do you know where Draco is?"

Tristen nodded slightly and replied, "With Aunt Nadia."

"Do you know where their room is?"

"Mum told me."

"Good. Go get Draco and then go tell Damian to take the younger one's to their rooms. Got that?"

"Yes, Uncle," said Tristen.

"Hop to it."

Tristen nodded and bobbed his head in McGonagall's direction before he ran from the office. Severus and Hermione came up a moment later, both looking confused.

"Harry," said Hermione, "would you mind telling me why our fireplace nearly went out and your voice came through it?"

"And why our son is going after Draco?" added Severus, running a hand back through his green-streaked hair.

"Aubrey's attacked one of the Weasley's," said Harry coldly.

Hermione gasped and Severus' eyes widened.

"Who?" he asked.

"I don't know. He mentions a little girl."

"That could be any of them!" exclaimed Hermione. "Oh God, Melinda, Riana, Amelie, Adriana… Any of them!"

McGonagall frowned and said, "If he'd attacked, he'd have killed the Order member watching them. And if any of them go down, I have an alarm that goes off."

All of a sudden a loud, resounding ring went through the office and Harry's eyes turned completely black.

"Would that be it?" he asked quietly.

McGonagall paled and opened one of her desk drawers to look at something inside. "Its Charlie."

"Riana," gasped Hermione.

Harry's eyes narrowed and he growled, "Sev."

"You've got it," said Severus.

Harry nodded and looked at Hermione and said, "Go find Mischa and stay with her."

"What shall I tell Draco when he arrives?" asked McGonagall.

"Get him to come after us," replied Severus. "We may need him."

"Be careful," whispered Hermione.

Harry smiled at her and left the office. Severus lingered behind to plant a kiss on his wife's cheek before he followed.


	17. Feeling's Gone

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 17 – Feeling's Gone**

"Merlin's beard," breathed Severus when he and Harry appeared in front of the building Charlie Weasley lived in.

The entire building was completely ablaze and the fire department was vainly trying to put it out. In a small park just across from it, what appeared to be the occupants of the building. Harry craned his neck but didn't see a tall, red-headed man among them.

All of a sudden, a little dark-haired wraith came running out of the crowd and flung itself on Severus' legs with a sob.

"Unca Swev!"

Severus swooped down on the four-year-old girl and picked her up, gently rocking her back and forth as he whispered something in her ear.

"Ri! RI!"

"Christopher!" snapped Harry, gaining the attention of a ten-year-old boy with a shock of red hair that was stained with ash.

"Uncle Harry! Father…"

"What happened?" asked Harry, laying a hand on the boy's shoulder.

Christopher swallowed hard and replied, "There was a man. He…he looked like the picture's of Uncle Ron."

"What did he do?"

"He…he…"

Harry knelt down beside the boy and said, "Tell me, Chris. What did he do?"

"He…" Christopher's eyes welled up with tears as he sobbed, "He killed Father!"

Harry's eyes went completely black again and he pulled the distraught boy close. He looked at Severus over the ten-year-old's shoulder and their eyes locked.

Severus caught the anger in those eyes and closed his. He knew what Charlie's three children were going to have to live through from experience. His own parents had been killed when he was young and he'd grown up in the care of his Death Eater aunt and uncle.

At least these three children didn't have to go through _that_ particular horror.

* * *

"Charlie's dead," reported Harry's head from the fireplace.

"Ri?" asked Hermione. "Chris?"

"They're fine. I know now who's blood Aubrey's letter was written in."

McGonagall nodded and said, "Charlie's. Have you told Molly?"

"Sev's telling her right now. Mr. Weasley's getting ahold of Bill, Fred, and George. I think it'd be best to have them all at Hogwarts."

"Good idea, Potter," sneered Draco, who had just arrived in the office. "Bring him right to us."

Harry glared at Draco and snapped, "Remember if you will, Malfoy, that your not the only worried father among us!"

"Stop it, both of you!" hissed Hermione.

"Sorry, Mione," muttered Harry. He then looked at McGonagall and said, "We'll be back in about an hour. Where's Mischa?"

"With Nadia," replied Hermione. "Aubrey sent a letter to Lily."

"In Charlie's blood," added McGonagall.

Harry's eyes flooded black and he snarled, "_That fucking bastard!_ This time I'll damn well make sure he's dead!"

"Harry, don't…" began Hermione, only to have a fierce, dark gaze fixed upon her.

"Don't what?" hissed Harry. "Don't get angry? Don't imagine what sort of horror three innocent children are going to have to go through? Don't imagine what Chris and Ri might remember about their father's death? Don't think of what Lily is probably going through right now? I can't _help_ but think about those things, Mione."

Draco opened his mouth to say something but McGonagall hurriedly cut him off.

"Thank you, Harry. Get them here safely."

"I will," swore the dark-haired man vehemently. His head vanished from the fireplace a moment later with a _pop_ and the Headmistress sighed.

"Now what?" asked Draco.

"Now we try and keep Harry from going after Aubrey," said McGonagall. She looked solemnly at Hermione and continued, "He's going to want revenge."

Hermione just nodded.

"The Weasley's have been the only family he's ever had," she said softly. "Sev and I will try our best to hold him down."

"Use the child for leverage if you have to."

Hermione blinked and stared blankly at McGonagall.

"I know it is a cruel thing to do, Hermione, especially to Harry…but we _must_ not let him go after Aubrey."

Hermione nodded slowly and said, "I know." She then blinked and asked, "What about Sirius and Remus?"

"And my mother?" added Draco. "If Aubrey's going after every soul Potter knows, she'll be included."

"I already thought of that," said McGonagall. "The members of the Order who were watching the Weasley's are trying to find them as we speak."

"My mother's in the Caribbean," said Draco. "With Lupin."

Hermione colored slightly and coughed at that. Draco arched an eyebrow at her but said nothing.

"I'll inform Nymphadora and Kingsley then." McGonagall looked curiously at Hermione and asked, "Would you know where Sirius is?"

"Not a clue. Harry might. I think they keep up regular correspondence."

"I shall ask him when he returns. Until then…go get some rest, the both of you."

"I don't think I could do anything right now," said Hermione.

McGonagall smiled gently at her and said, "Try, my dear."

"I will."

The bushy-haired witch rose from her chair and left, Draco trailing behind her. As the door to the office swung closed, McGonagall put her head in her hands and prayed that nothing else would happen.


	18. There's Nothing Left

**Disclaimer:** I do not own HP. I repeat, I do NOT own HP. But, of course, you lot know this, right? If not, whack yourself repeatedly in the head with a blunt object until you do.

**Serpens Erus Temptatio**

**"Serpent Lord's Temptation"**

**Chapter 18 – There's Nothing Left**

When Harry and Severus returned to Hogwarts, there was a dark mood over them and the small crowd of mostly redheads that followed them. Hermione had rounded up those Weasley children that were currently at Hogwarts and they were now standing in the entrance hall with McGonagall as the younger witch had retired.

Nadia, Draco's wife, stood a little away from them with Lillianne, Charlie's oldest daughter. The third year's green eyes were red-rimmed and she clenched a letter tightly in one fist.

Molly Weasley, who only had a bit of silver peppered here and there in her hair to show her age, rushed across the entranceway to her granddaughter. She swept Lillianne up into a tight embrace and the thirteen-year-old immediately burst out into fresh tears. Nadia watched them with a sad expression on her face – one that was mirrored by her eldest son, who was standing nearby.

"Thank you for having us, Minerva," said Arthur quietly, shifting the weight of the two-year-old child in his arms slightly. Amelie Weasley opened gray eyes and peered about sleepily at the movement but immediately fell back asleep in her grandfather's arms. Her twin Adriana peered about the entranceway with curious brown eyes from her father's arms.

"No trouble at all, Arthur," said McGonagall. She then placed a hand on his arm and added, "I am very sorry about Charlie."

Arthur's throat tightened and he nodded slightly.

"Thank you. I know you did your best to keep them safe. I – I'm glad that the young one's got out." He glanced at his second eldest son's children, who had all been swept up into their grandmother's embrace. "I wish they didn't have to go through this."

"You and I both," said Severus, suddenly appearing at the older man's left. He smiled tightly as he continued, "I can't imagine what you're going through. But I know what _they _are going to go through, those children. Losing a parent is not something you ever recover from."

"Not even if you never knew them," added Harry softly from Arthur's right. He then looked at McGonagall and asked, "Where are they going to stay?"

"Guest rooms," replied the Headmistress. "Eighth floor. Severus, you know the way."

"Indeed. I shall lead them."

"I'll get Molly," said Arthur, walking towards his still teary wife.

Harry looked after him for a moment before he turned and caught Benjamin Weasley's sleeve. The fifteen-year-old ground to a halt and blinked curiously at him.

"Professor?"

"You know where the kitchens are, don't you?"

Benjamin frowned as he nervously replied, "Yes…"

"Good. Go there and ask for Dobby. Tell him that I want food for twenty-one people delivered to the eighth floor rooms. And tell him not to overdo it. A simple breakfast is all I want."

"But…"

"We all missed breakfast because of this," said Harry. "And I need to think on something other than your uncle's murderer." At a flash of anger in Benjamin's eyes, he added, "As do we all, it seems."

The fifth year started to say something then stopped and just nodded. Harry patted him on the shoulder then sent him on his way. After he watched Severus lead the Weasley clan off, he turned towards McGonagall.

"Where's Mischa?"

Nadia stepped forward before the Headmistress could speak and said, "She's resting in our rooms. The poor dear was quite tired when Hermione brought her up. Seemed like she hadn't gotten much sleep."

Harry sighed and rubbed his hand over his chin, noting the stubble growing there.

"I don't think anyone's gotten much sleep lately," he said slowly. "Especially not me."

"Perhaps you should go get some," said McGonagall. "You need it."

"What I need is my family safe," growled Harry lightly. He frowned and added, "A stiff drink might also be in order."

"Sleep," ordered McGonagall. "No drink. Just _sleep._ This isn't a request, Harry."

"Aye, ma'am. I know."

McGonagall smiled slightly and gave him a gentle shove in the direction of his rooms.

"Go then."

Harry glanced back at her then began to walk, hands stuffed in the jeans that he wore underneath his open robes. When he reached his rooms, he locked the door and pulled off his robes, throwing them onto the couch. Medusa gave a soft yowl as the robes landed on top of her and Harry smiled apologetically at the cat as she glared at him.

"Sorry, Dusa."

"Mrow," said Medusa, flicking an ear. She then proceeded to clean one of her paws, ignoring her master completely.

Harry shook his head and strode past the couch towards his bedroom. When he pulled the curtain aside, he paused and stared at the figure curled up on his bed.

Mischa lifted her head and smiled sleepily at him.

"Hi."

"Hi yourself," said Harry. "I thought you were in Draco and Nadia's rooms."

"I snuck down," said Mischa. "Was that wrong of me? I'll leave…"

As she started to rise, Harry stepped forward and gently pushed her back down.

"No, no… Stay. Please."

"Of course," said Mischa with a smile. She laid back down and Harry sat down near her feet, bending over to take off his boots.

Mischa sat up again and curled her arms about his waist as she laid her head against his shoulder.

"What happened?" she asked in a soft voice.

Harry paused for a moment then continued to untie his left boot.

"Charlie Weasley's dead."

There was a moment of stiff silence.

"Aubrey?" whispered Mischa.

Harry just nodded.

"Oh, Harry… How could he? His own brother?"

"It wouldn't be the first sibling he's killed," said Harry, shoving his left boot off. He then turned his attention to the right.

"No," said Mischa softly. "No, it wouldn't. But…what would drive him to something like that?"

"He wants me to suffer."

"Why?"

Harry shoved his other boot off then turned to look at the woman.

"Because," he began, "the Weasley's have been the only family I've ever had. Aubrey knows that because he's still – somewhere – Ron. By killing them, he slowly kills a part of me."

"What about Severus and Hermione?" asked Mischa. "Draco?"

Harry nodded.

"Them too."

"And me?"

Harry looked at her for a long moment before he lifted a hand to caress her cheek. He then leaned forward and whispered fiercely, "He can't have you. You're mine."

"He can't have you either," murmured Mischa, leaning close to kiss the side of his mouth. "I need you. _We_ need you."

"You have me. I love you, Mischa."

"I love you too."

Harry smiled and slid onto the bed behind Mischa, pulling her tightly against him as they lay back. He buried his face in her dark hair and whispered, "Marry me."

Mischa stiffened and rolled over, staring at him with wide eyes.

"Are you serious?"

Harry blinked then laughed nervously and replied, "Yeah. I'm serious."

"I'd love to."

"I'm glad."

Mischa smiled and curled up against Harry's chest, her arms about his waist. His own curled tightly about her, making her feel safe.

They swiftly fell asleep in the grasp of the one they loved.


End file.
